We Are Children of Summer
by SolarisSun
Summary: After the events of Snake Eater, Big Boss takes a retirement of sorts to process the death of his teacher and what it means to be a soldier. He takes to the city of Kandahar, acting as a hunting and field survival instructor - which is dismal at best. However, things begin to change when a quirky botanist begins taking his classes.
1. Chapter 1

**We Are C** **hildren of Summer**

 _Author's Note: Since the original Metal Gear Solid series relies heavily on historical events, I have also tried my best as an author to research as much as I can about the political situation of Afghanistan in the early and late 1970's in order to be as authentic as possible. When writing stories proper research is imperative, especially when writing about cultures that are not one's own._

 _Also all characters with the exception of my original character Dr. Zahira Kartal belong to Hideo Kojima and this is strictly fan work not for sale or publishing. Some of the game's original timeline has been altered for the purpose of the story, extending the years of Big Boss's "retirement" from combat after defeating The Boss._

 **CHAPTER ONE**

The heat was suffocating, raking in at a feverish 104 degrees Fahrenheit, a record high for the month of July. The stone buildings of the marketplace shone brightly in the merciless Afghan sun as the locals bustled from stall to stall going about their daily business. It was a wonder how people survived in such a harsh climate, a testament to human resilience. There was a beauty to how no matter how uninhabitable a place may seem, life managed to find a way to flourish.

After all the chaos he had been through, it was almost ironic how he had chosen to come to Kandahar of all places. There were whispers of a revolution, of potential Soviet aggression. No matter how hard he tried, at the end of the day he always found a war to take part in somehow. It must have come with the job description. He didn't become soldier by being a pacifist after all. Turmoil was a comfort, he thrived in it, built a career on it – would he even know how to function without some looming threat in the distance keeping him on guard?

Besides, keeping up with the local news kept his mind off of his last mission. That was something he wished he could forget more than anything. It didn't matter that he was awarded some stupid honor. A cold piece of metal, screaming at him for murdering the woman he owed everything. Without her mentorship, he probably would have died years ago, or be some grunt sent to the frontlines in the next war. In the end, he had taken her life based upon a lie. Becoming a soldier meant that you were disposable, everyone who joined up knew this – but that mission had become a real wake up call.

There used to be some sense of pride to rising through the ranks to protect your country. Before secret talks between nations and cover stories. Before the bombs dropped war seemed simpler, patriotism had a sense of meaning. Things were more transparent and governments weren't entirely out for themselves. He envied the men of that simpler time.

Stretching his arms above his head, he let out a small sigh. At least here he went by "Ishmael". The pressure of becoming "Big Boss" was far away since retiring. Well, as far away as he could make it – there were always a few who recognized him. Now he was trying his hand at being a field guide and hunting instructor. A venture which unfortunately was proving dismal. Whenever the teacher evaluation forms came back he was always criticized for being too harsh on his students. Go figure, what did they expect taking lessons from someone who was ex – military. He wasn't here for a fluffy cake walk. However, his employer Mr. Naraan felt differently. If he fucked up again, his job would be on the line. That was a feeling that he hadn't felt in years. The "world's greatest soldier" couldn't hold a simple job down.

It was pathetic, and he couldn't help laughing in spite of himself.

Nevertheless, he wasn't going to let the morning get off to a bad start. He was going to enjoy his morning cigar. Maybe today he wouldn't scare everyone off.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A:N - MARCH 20, 2016:** So Solaris made a mistake. That feel when you spend too much time researching conflicts in the region and things like the weather in Kandahar and the Registan Desert that you realize - HEY. THEY DON'T SPEAK ARABIC IN AFGHANISTAN - IT'S PASHTO. Anyway, I've committed Sepuku for my sins, but it's been fixed now! HAHAHA. I only had to get eight chapters into my fic before I realized the travesty._

 **CHAPTER TWO**

The road from his tiny second floor apartment was an unpaved, rocky dirt road. Further in the city, the roads were nicer, and maintained, but on the outskirts in some backwater neighborhood, this was hardly the case. He could have gotten something nicer. Hell, he could have stayed in a hotel if he really wanted to, but there was something wonderful about being away from it all.

His boots became dusty as he walked, and he wondered how some of the locals could get by with open toed shoes. Personally, it would drive him insane if day in and day out his feet would get caked in dirt. When he was off duty, back at home base, he surprised people with how fastidious he was with cleaning and hygiene. Just because he was good at surviving with nothing but a crappy hunting knife and the clothes on his back, did not mean he enjoyed those situations. If he didn't have access to showers on a mission, well it was tough luck and he dealt with it.

"Hey watch out! _"_ Some one screamed loudly from behind in Pashto.

Looking over his shoulder, the scene unfolded before him: A runaway merchant's cart with a broken wheel came hurtling toward him. At this rate, it was going to crush him and the unlucky souls who happened to be in the morning crowd to get to work.

"Shit," Snake grunted under his breath.

Frantically, he began pushing his way through the crowd. Everyone was scrambling to get to the sides of the road, parting like the Dead Sea. He kept looking back to make sure that the cart didn't hit a rock causing it to veer off. Wouldn't it be hilarious though? _"Naked Snake, cause of death: pummelled by a runaway cart"._ The boys back at home would have a field day with that one.

Thankfully, he made it through the chaos. Now he watched from a distance as the cart slammed into the wall of an unsuspecting building. Its contents flew into the street. A few child looters came and quickly stole what they could before the owner finally caught up to his cart and began chasing them away, fist raised in the air. It seemed like no one was hurt during all the excitement. That was a relief.

The crowd merged again, and the busyness that came with mornings resumed as if nothing had happened. No one stopped to help the man with his cart.

Passing by, Snake and the man's eye locked. He looked at Snake with pleading eyes. But, he had somewhere to be as well – he couldn't stop to help, and he felt guilty, but he kept walking. Every man for himself.

By the time he made it work, he was two minutes late. Nothing bad by Mr. Naraan's standards _if_ he was in a good mood... but lately he hadn't been in a good mood. Mr. Naraan ran his business from within a rickety outpost with a large sign displaying in both English and Pashto, "Desert Tours! Field Survival Lessons and Hunting Guides!" The rates were displayed on a little wooden standee outside of the booking window. It mostly catered to tourists looking for an "edgy" getaway. Something to brag about to their parents at home. He saw a mix of Europeans, Americans, Turks, Lebanese, among others.

Running in through the back door, he quickly punched in his time card and threw on his uniform shirt, a khaki green short sleeved dress shirt, and vest. Luckily, it seemed he hadn't be noticed.

"You're late Mr. America," a voice called out.

Turning quickly, he immediately cursed himself for thinking he was off the hook.

"Sorry sir, there was an accident on the way to work this morning. Not much I can do about that," He replied to his annoyed boss sheepishly.

"Okay, Mr. America, sure," Mr. Naraan waved dismissively, "but you have your hands full today. We have a group of ten today. Do you think you can handle that _without_ scaring all of my clients off?"

Snake bit his lip and nodded, "Yeah, I can handle it."

Before leaving, Mr. Naraan rolled his eyes and answered, "I sure hope so, or we're going to be having a serious discussion about your employment here."

"Looking forward to it," Snake swore to himself.

A class of ten was pretty big. Especially when it was probably going to be filled with nothing but people who were green. Today, he was going to have to keep his mouth shut, "be more encouraging", not scream at people when they screwed up taking the safety of their gun off, or swung their gun around without thinking.

He sighed deeply. This was going to be a day and a half.

Stepping outside, he forced down the urge to take a smoke, as much as he could use one. Instead, he took a gander at his new "recruits".

They were a ragtag group. So they probably all signed up without knowing each other. It happened occasionally, but it was more common for a full tour group to sign up all at once. As far as he could see, there were even split between men and women. One of the girls had purple hair, which made him grimace. He couldn't stand girls who dyed their hair. Sure he was old school, he grew up in the forties and fifties. Scanning the faces in the group put him at ease though, most of them looked to be European or along those lines so he wouldn't have to trudge through with his broken Pashto. He wished Mr. Naraan wouldn't be such a cheapskate and hire another instructor for those who didn't speak any English, but it wasn't his place to complain. The job did pay his rent.

Anyway, it was time to begin his lesson.

 _A/N: Thanks imjane for doing a concrit on this chapter and catching a few typos and some passive voice! Fixed it up based on your review c:_


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

"Alright, listen up! I'm sure the brochure advertized this as some cute tourist attraction, but I'm here to actually teach you something. So listen up, and listen good," Snake barked at his pupils, opening his class.

He could see some slight looks of discomfort on some of their faces and sighed inwardly, he definitely was not a people person.

"To start things off I'm going to set up some ground rules. See in the military, rules are called orders, and you have to follow them or you'll probably die. Here... it's a little more lax, and you'll just get yelled at by me," he continued, trying to add some humour into his little spiel.

However, the crowd looked bored and unamused, staring off into the space or fidgeting. Nervously, he scanned their faces, trying to find someone who was interested, and at least focus on teaching to them.

"Rule number one: if we're working with guns – always have it pointed towards the ground – especially in your safety is off. I don't want anyone getting shot in the foot.

Rule number two: knives stay in their sheath unless we're working with them. If you drop your knife, call out and let the people around you know," Snake closed his eyes in exasperation. "And for the love of Christ, _do not throw your knives_. You are _not_ a ninja. Your aim will suck. Someone will get hurt. I _won't_ get sued, but _you_ will."

This one did illicit some laughs which made him smile in relief. He still had some charm, after all.

And it was true... he would never forget that one stupid sixteen year old boy who thought he was "King Shit". He was trying to hit a target meant for shooting practice and clipped a poor lady in the arm. That was not a good field day. The amount of paperwork he had to do was disgusting.

"Alright, rule number three: If we get to go out into the field, for those of you who decide to come for the whole week, we're not going to have access to a lot of the comforts of home. If you have a special diet – like you're vegetarian... I got some bad news for you because we're in a desert. Pack something for yourself or you're going to be eating whatever we find out there... so I hope you all like snakes," Snake concluded with a chuckle as he watched his students' faces contort with disgust at thought of eating snakes. He probably was going to get five students who stayed the whole week _if_ he was lucky.

"Finally, my name is Ishmael, so if you need help don't hesitate to call me over. If you have any more questions, now's your time to ask them."

He waited patiently and counted to seven, reading in some book on facilitation that counting to seven allowed people adequate time for their slow brains to think of something. That book was as dry as they come, but he hoped it would improve his dismal people skills at work.

Finally, by the time he had counted to five, someone sheepishly raised their hand – a young boy with brown hair and dark eyes, he looked Slavic and he guessed that maybe he came from Romania or the south of Russia, "Is that eye-patch real? Or you just wearing that to scare us and be tough?"

Oh boy. He always got someone asking about his damn eye. Gritting his teeth and forcing himself not to shoot back _"Yeah it is, wanna lose yours too?"_ or something along those lines was a challenge. He fucking hated shit eating entitled kids.

He forced a smile on his face and replied in the cheeriest voice he could manage, "How about a bonus rule – the eye and the eye patch are off limits. Otherwise I'll make you lose your lunch and actually show it to you."

Passive aggression, he could get away with that couldn't he?

"Anyway, anyone else have any questions?" He asked to the crowd. He wanted to keep things rolling.

The purple haired girl raised her hand, "Are we going to have lunch breaks or smoke breaks?"

Good. A normal question.

"Yes, we'll take five after we go over some safety procedures and take lunch around noon. Just smoke away from the rest and find an ashtray to put out your smoke," He answered.

"Okay, looks like we're done here, so let's get down to business."

He instructed them to follow him further into the camp so he could give a quick orientation. The site was small so it never took long, but it was his least favourite part of his job. It was tedious and repetitive. On top of that, people didn't pay attention anyway and he would still have to point someone in the general direction of the restroom. People were exhausting.

Glancing down at his watch his sighed – another seven hours and forty minutes to go.

At least from here, he'd start playing towards his strengths. Basic survival skills weren't hard to teach and they were second nature to him. He was just dreading the hunting portion. That's where things usually went wrong.

 _Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in updating. School started up for me today and I was bracing myself for my last semester of my 3D Animation program. I'll still be continuing this story though because it's a really good stress relief for me - plus METAL GEAR. Thanks so much for reading and I hope I can create a story that you will continue to enjoy! I'm going to try and update this weekly for you guys._

 _UPDATE: Thanks again to imjane and mockingjaybrandybuck for catching some grammatical errors. You're great._


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

The first exercise he would begin with was how to start a fire. It was the most basic and probably the most essential part to survival aside from finding water. With a fire you could cook your meals and stay warm – even in the desert, the nights were freezing because there was nothing to retain the heat. Since the desert was so barren, it was essential to be creative with kindling as well. He also liked this exercise because he could split people up into pairs so if one was struggling, they could help each other, and it was one less person to bark at. Plus, in the short time he had been doing this, he noticed that they got the most satisfaction out of it. And who wouldn't? They created fire!

Leading the group over to a long thin table with various supplies and equipment for starting a fire he split them up into two groups of five. Ten, although it would become a handful in the later activities, was a blessing because it saved him from the awkward groups of three or having to stand in as someone's partner. He didn't have the patience for it, and half the time he would end up doing it himself, and some activities just didn't work with an odd number.

After he explained the different methods that they could use to start a fire he numbered them off based on what they would be using to create their fire, they would have ten minutes to do so and then switch to the next method. Number one was the wooden stick method, number two was the magnifying glass/ eye glass lens method, number three the coke can and chocolate bar method and number four the steel flint method. Since the wooden fire started method was so difficult, and his least favourite of the bunch he would give two stations to that since it definitely required the most practice to get down correctly. Honestly, when it came down to it, starting a fire that way was mostly luck.

It would take exactly fifty minutes for the them to go through each station if they kept to schedule, which meant ten minutes to talk to them about what they learned and what they could have done better which would take them nicely to an hour and then to lunch. Then he could treat himself to another cigar, eat something light and continue the day.

Standing back from the crowd so he could get a good view of what each group was doing he sounded them off and began watching the minutes fly by.

Purple Hair Girl was trying to organize the people in her group by task – one person to set up the kindling, another to blow air to get oxygen to the spark when they got one. The others in her group were to take turns watching for a spark and spinning the sticks together in order to get one. All in all, the process was inefficient in his eyes. It was a clinical way of working, and she just kept talking and trying to delegate "resources". The only way they were actually going to accomplish anything was just by doing it.

With a quick glance down at his watch to see how much time was left, he went to go check on the other group. They were assigned the coke can and chocolate bar method. From the looks of it, they had managed to polish the bottom of the can fairly well, making it into a pretty good lens, but were having trouble finding the correct angle to set off a spark.

Since they almost had the method down, he decided that today he would cut these kids some slack and help them out a little. Besides, it would help him get out of the doghouse with Mr. Naraan. He was being "supportive". Really, the best way for them to learn was through trial and error. That's how The Boss taught him. She showed him once and then it was up to him to repeat it until he finally figured it out for himself. It was the only way to know if you really understood it.

Walking up to the Slavic boy who questioned him about his eye earlier, Snake patted him on the shoulder and asked, "Need a hand with that?"

The boy shook his head and shrugged him off and continued facing the bottom of the can at the sun. "Listen, you almost have the angle right – like seventy percent there. Try crouching down a bit and pointing it lower. Standing all the way up here you're never going to get it," Snake continued.

Reluctantly, the boy followed his instructions, only to watch in wonder as the faintest spark began to appear. Quickly the other members of his group began hooting in excitement and trying to fan air into the fire to get it going. No matter how draining dealing with rookies was, it was always a fair sight to see someone make their first fire.

He looked at the other group and saw that they weren't even close. Purple Hair Girl was furiously trying to get something going as she barked at her teammates. But, they were out of time and would have to try that one again the next time they came around to it.

"Alright, switch!"

There were sighs of disappointment and relief coming from the two different groups as they changed stations as Snake reset the timer once again. Only few more rounds of this and he could eat something, and he was craving a smoke. If there was one menial thing that he missed about being in FOX was that he could at least smoke whenever he wanted, or his job was mentally stimulating enough to keep him occupied.

 _A/N: Holy crap! Sorry for not updating. School has been murdering me and I've been there most days until midnight ;_; Portfolio crunch time is hard._

 _I'm glad I finally got this out though. Thank you for being patient with me!_

 _A/N - March 24, 2016: Thanks mockingjaybrandybuck and Galya for pointing out some minor SPaG issues!_


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

At long last it was lunch – a godsend for his grumbling stomach. His students seemed to be exhausted from the trial and error of each different method of trying to start a fire, and if he could get away with it he would try and end the day early. Even though his boss might not appreciate it, he figured the kids would.

"Okay! Time for lunch, so you can grab your grub. We have an hour, so if you need to go to the market there's time. Just don't be late," He instructed to the group.

"And what if we're late?" Purple Hair Girl, asked coyly as the others were about to leave.

Rolling his eyes, he replied with a smirk, "You should know, one thousand push ups. This _is_ bootcamp – don't waste my time."

"Right, sorry sir. I'll keep it in mind when I'm out and about," She laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling up.

Turning around to get his own lunch back in the staff room, he shook his head and chuckled to himself. Students were characters, alright.

Once in the staff room, he breathed a sigh of relief, and took a moment to enjoy the peace and quiet. There was no one crowding, or asking questions. It was beautiful. He quickly rummaged through the dilapidated communal fridge in the corner, for the falafel pita sandwich he made for himself three days ago, but never had quite gotten around to eating. There weren't enough students to warrant a full day's class the past few days, and he had been sent home early. Not that he entirely minded, but without fail he had forgotten his food.

However, it seemed everything but his pita was in the fridge.

Biting the inside of his lip to suppress a curse, he slammed the door shut.

There was only one other person to work here, and that was his boss, Mr. Naraan.

Well there went a relaxing lunch in peace.

Storming out of the staff room, he marched to the corner of camp. He was too angry to deal with the bustling noise of the market. At least he could have his smoke. His unfinished Cuban from this morning was waiting for him in his pants' pocket.

Leaning up against the wooden fence, that marked the end of the grounds, he plopped his cigar in his mouth and began fishing for his lighter. When he dug into his right back pocket where he usually kept it, he found it was missing. Clenching his cigar tighter, he frantically felt through his other pockets, also coming up with nothing.

His jaw dropped in exasperation, almost causing him to lose his cigar to the dusty ground.

He knew what had happened, during the cart incident prior, it must have fell out as he avoided getting turned into a pancake.

"Need a light?" A voice called from behind.

Caught off guard, Snake spun around to see who was addressing him, and lo and behold it was Purple Hair.

"Yeah, actually I do," He answered, "how did you know?"

Smiling, she passed her lighter to him, a red Bic, "Well, I know the 'can't find my lighter' dance pretty well."

He took her lighter gratefully, closing his eyes and inhaling just enough to taste the rich flavour of the tobacco before exhaling. The warm tingling in his mouth calmed him down slightly, and he already felt less on edge.

"Fair enough," He laughed.

He watched her pull out a cigarette and grimaced. He had tried to smoke them because they were cheaper, but they tasted awful. He didn't care if they were the economic choice – they were crap.

"How do you afford that habit?" She asked after taking a long drag.

"Good pension from doing my time for the U.S. of A,"

She looked at him incredulously, "Hilarious."

"Yup," He answered with a wry smile.

He looked out at the horizon and took in the view of the mountains, which were more like rolling hills. How long was he going to stay here, out in the middle of nowhere?

"So, um," He fumbled for his student's name.

"Zahira," She interjected pleasantly.

"Okay, Zahira," He mumbled before continuing, "what made you decide to take my class?"

Giving her arms a good stretch, she answered, "Well, I have some research that needs to get out in the Registan Desert, and I'd like to know how to sort of fend for myself if I need to."

"So you're a scientist or something?"

"Botanist," She replied promptly.

"What good is a botanist in one of the most uninhabitable deserts?"

Sighing, as if she has had to explain herself many times, she explained, "Well, what if we want colonize the Moon? Or go to Mars? Those places are uninhabitable, but if we want to keep studying them then we need some way to have sustainable resources up there – well at least if we want anything long term."

Snake shook his head, "Well, if it means anything. You at least trying to learn how to fend for yourself makes you a better scientist than the rest in my books."

He bitterly remembered Sokolov and the mess he had to go through with trying to rescue that stupid man. For someone who could build the next nuclear war machine, you would think he would have some more common sense in his head, or some basic guile. But no – he was a "smart" idiot.

"What do you mean by that?" Zahira laughed.

"Let's just say that if I had a thousand dollars for every time a scientist screwed me over back in the army, I'd have enough money to buy the world, sell it, and buy it again."

 _A.N/ Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry for not updating regularly. School is murdering me, but I only have a month and a bit left! I hope this chapter is okay ;_; Thank you so much for bearing with me._


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

Mission accomplished.

He managed to push the kids hard enough that they could all leave a half hour early, at two thirty in the afternoon. They were beat, he was beat, it was time to call it a day.

Mr. Naraan came bustling out of his tiny office at the sight of the students gathering their belongings. Even with his one eye, Snake could see the short and wiry man running at him from a mile away. He couldn't help but smirk. He normally wasn't one to toy with his superiors, but the jerk ate his lunch, and honestly, he thought that he did a pretty good job today with the kids. They learned how to make a fire, and the basics of shelter and they were tired enough that they weren't talking – a job well done in his books. Plus, ending early when they were tired probably put him in their good books, right?

For now, he was going to pretend he didn't see his lousy boss about to give him hell, and decided to congratulate his class on a great first day with all the _warmth_ and _kindness_ he could possibly muster. With this class, he was determined to show that he could in fact be a good, likeable teacher, just out of spite.

"Ishmael, can I talk to you?"

There it was, the grating, nasally voice.

Turning around, Snake answered curtly, "Yup?"

He had to stop himself from breaking out into a shit-eating grin looking at his boss' disgruntled face. His eyebrows were narrowed and he seemed that he was going to break into a sweat at any moment.

"Why are our clients leaving early? What did you do? We're losing rates here, I hope you know that," Mr. Naraan scolded.

"Well, kids did a good job today, I figured that I'd let them go early because they were tired and have an early start tomorrow – so technically rates would still be the same wouldn't it?" he shrugged.

His boss gave a _huff_ before continuing his lecture, "Listen, you're the worst instructor I've had. You're too hard, you take it too seriously. How many times do I have to tell you this is a _fun_ camp,"

"Alright well, I have a feeling that you and I are never going to agree on this, but I'd actually like to give people some skills so if they do find themselves in a proverbial pickle, they can actually get themselves out of it. I mean, this isn't Disneyland in case you haven't noticed... and I might suck at everything else, but you have to admit that the people who do stick it through have always written back that the information was good."

Snake was entering into some dangerous territory with his boss, but he was so done with the crap of being" the worst instructor ever". And besides the point, he never saw the guy interviewing or actively trying to replace him.

"Ishmael, you better watch how you speak to me in the future. Or I won't wait until the outcome of this group to find someone else," Mr. Naraan threatened before skulking away back to the confines of his office.

Whatever, he just wanted to go home and eat something. His stomach was beginning to gnaw at itself from going a whole day without eating. Letting out a sigh, he started to head back to the staff room to collect his things and change out of his work shirt. He was getting soft from his time away from duty.

A light tap on his shoulder smashed his train of thought. He lifted his head up an looked over his shoulder to see who it was. He was surprised to see it was Purple Hair – no, Zahira.

"Hey, it looked like you were getting chewed out for a second, everything alright?" she asked. He could see the concern in her eyes, catching him off guard.

"It was nothing, really," he answered gruffly, "don't worry about it."

He could tell she didn't look convinced. He wasn't sure how to respond to her worry, but he guessed that he appreciated it.

"Are you sure?" she said, continuing to push the subject.

"Yeah, we don't agree on some things, that's about it," he replied in the same tone as before, "like I said, don't worry about it."

He marched off without so much as saying goodbye. It was weird, she was the first student to try and talk to him outside of asking a question on survival techniques. He stopped for a moment and called back to her, "Just go home and rest up. Big day tomorrow!"

Eh, what the hell.

 _A/N: WOOO. Two chapters in a week! Whaaat? I got inspired and had a little extra time this weekend. Who knows, I might get to update again tomorrow, the writing juices are flowing._

 _Once again thanks so much for reading! Really appreciate it you guys =D_


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

He rushed up the hill to his home, eager to get dinner started and to take a long hot shower. The way was devoid of any sign of the commotion this morning, and the thought of the old man's misfortune played at the back of his mind. He hoped someone came to help the poor man out, and the wave of guilt he felt from this morning came back to him. "You can't save everyone," He thought to himself in an attempt to force it out of his mind.

Being naive on that last mission and thinking he could find a way around murdering his teacher taught him that. _"Loyalty to yourself or the mission",_ that's what she always preached at him, _"one day you're going to have to choose"._ However, granted his position, he really didn't think he had much of an option. If he didn't do what he did, it would mean an all out nuclear war for breaching Soviet territory. All thanks to Sokolov for being a useless twit and, later as he found out, Volgin sabotaging The Boss' undercover mission by firing one of the Davy Crockett shells she had brought to gain the maniac's trust.

He needed to stop dwelling on it, or it was going to eat him alive. But it was easier said than done when the simplest things reminded him of it.

Climbing up the steps to his front door, he fished out his keys and unlocked his door, entering into his sparsely furnished apartment. There was a small burgundy couch in the center of the living room, with a plain wooden coffee table in front of it. A few books were piled off to the corner of the table, mostly history and philosophy – some in English, some in Russian, some in French. He didn't own a TV, but rather a small black radio which he occasionally dialed to the news and tried to pick apart the Pashto. He didn't know how long he was going to stay here, but he was going to at least try to learn the language as best as he could. Even if he never went back on duty, the more languages he knew the greater advantage he had.

He walked over to the kitchen and began rummaging through the cupboards, unsure of what to make. He was hungry, but felt too uninspired to cook anything that required a lot of prep. Finally, he found some pasta noodles he could make. Pulling out an old, beaten up pot that he had been ripped off for at the market, he filled it with water and placed it on his tiny white stove. In the meantime, he grabbed some sauce he had made from the freezer and began warming it up on the other element. While he was waiting for the pot to boil, he kicked off his boots and took off his eye-patch. The wound still itched and was sore from time to time. The humidity made it worse because it caused him to sweat underneath, but that was his choice – he was the one who refused the prosthetic.

Twenty minutes time, dinner was ready, and he plopped himself down on the couch. Normally, he was a stickler for eating at his small, round dining table, but he was too tired and his back was acting up. He needed to do some stretches. Once again, standing around all day and coaching people was making him soft.

He took small bites of his food, savouring the fact that no matter how simple it was, it wasn't a milk snake or a rat or any of the other fun things he had to eat while on the job. He chuckled as he remembered picking on Para-Medic giving him advice over his radio on the different things he caught or collected. His favourite moment was when he asked her if eating those glowing Russian mushrooms would recharge his batteries, and she was just dumbfounded. His least favourite experience was eating one of those white-rumped vultures, and then having her tell him they fed on human corpses. He definitely threw up and then some after that. He still got queasy thinking about it.

After finishing his meal, he put his dishes in the sink and headed for the shower. Stripping down in front of the mirror he examined himself. He really didn't look his age anymore. He was going to be thirty-one, and he looked like an old man.

His eyes forever had dark circles around them, making them appear more sunken in than they were, and worry lines etched his forehead. He didn't smile as much as he used to, and it showed on his face. He looked... tired. He still struggled with his missing right eye. During the rest of the mission it didn't faze him, he had a job to get done. But now, it did get to him from time to time. It could have been worse, in that torture room he could have been electrocuted to death, lost both of his eyes or died – he got off lucky. But, it was still a bitch looking at that dead, pale eye and the scars around it.

The rest of him, well that was obviously riddled with scars. Along with the bullet marks that riddled his body, he had a great long and jagged scar from when The Boss' broke his arm, and he had to splint it himself while he waited for Para-Medic and Major Zero to come and rescue him. He didn't hold it against her, she was just doing her job.

He sighed and turned on the tap, and let the water heat up. Enough reminders, he just needed to forget for a while. If he started dwelling now, he was going to find himself in a rut unable to do anything for the rest of the day, and he didn't want that. After all, he was going to have to get up at the crack of dawn to teach those kids again the next morning.

 _A/N: Once again changed all the Arabic to Pashto because Solaris managed to really mess a minor big detail . WHOOPS. It's fixed now, so we're back to being more authentic. HOORAY._


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Snake woke up with a start, his lids hammering open, his forehead wet with sweat and breathing heavily. His muscles locked in place and despite his best efforts to move he couldn't. He was frozen. The same god damn dream again. Each time he had it, it grew worse. There was always more detail, the pain was always more vivid.

After some time, he was able to sit up, the covers of his bed in disarray from all the tossing and turning during the night. He held his head in his hands, running his fingers through his dark brown hair, trying to catch his breath and calm down.

"It's alright, it's alright," he whispered to himself.

Finally after a few minutes, he was able to compose himself to get up and go to the bathroom. He opened the mirror cabinet, and searched through his many pill bottles. He whizzed past the pain killers, Advil, Tylenol and Aspirin and landed to the tranquilizers he was prescribed upon returning home, Diazepam. He took two, placing them under his tongue and waited for them to dissolve.

He hated relying on them, he hated it, but he knew without them he wasn't going to make it to work on time. He was already behind schedule – again.

He quickly brushed his teeth and slicked his hair back. Unfortunately, he was going to have to skip the shower and the cigar this morning. Haphazardly, he threw on some clothes, put on his eye patch and ran out the door.

By some stroke of luck, he managed to arrive on time. His students were lounging around the camp base waiting for the lesson to start. Looking at them, he hoped his meds started kicking in soon otherwise he was going to be really jittery – and that wasn't the best combination for work with tactical knives. He needed to be on his game today, especially since he wanted to make sure everyone was safe during the exercises.

He walked to the center of camp and called out to his group, "We're going to start in five minutes so wrap up what you're talking about and come here,"

He noticed Zahira who had been talking to one of the other students, quickly wrapped up her conversation and headed in his direction.

"Morning Ishmael!" She said with a grin.

"Uh, morning," He replied awkwardly.

He wasn't used to this. It was weird. Being on edge from this morning and waiting to be brought down wasn't helping his social ineptness.

"So what are we up to today?" she asked, making small talk.

"Er... I was going to go over some stuff with hunting knives. Get some experience skinning things, and how to clean your own food I guess," he trailed off.

Her mouth contorted in disgust, "Please tell me we're not using real animals or I'm gonna be sick."

"Oh God no," Snake laughed, "I've done it for years, and I know how to make sure there isn't too much suffering involved, you rookies – _that_ would be animal cruelty. We have dummies, don't worry."

Zahira sighed in relief, closing her eyes, "Oh thank God, I was worried,"

Talking to her was helping ground him surprisingly enough. It forced him to be present in his surroundings, and she had an easy air about her.

"Um, Ishmael, one question though," She asked, her eyes flitting about nervously.

Snake raised his eyebrow in confusion, "Yeah?" He replied dryly.

"What did you mean when you said you've "done it for years"?"

He shook his head and smirked, "Remember when I told you about the whole US of A, army stuff,"

"Oh ," she paused and put her hand to her face in embarrassment, "right, I guess you would really be roughing it then,"

"You got it."

There was some silence between them, and Snake shifted his feet. He didn't know how to continue on the conversation. He didn't know if he should ask her anything, her English _was_ really good so he could ask her where she was from – but that could be rude.

"Sorry, I'm a vegetarian, that's why I asked," she said, finally breaking the silence.

"Oh, yeah, no worries, just make sure to pack something while we're on the out trip – if you come."

Zahira broke into a huge grin, her white teeth contrasting with the red of her lipstick, "You know I'll be there. No quitters here."

Her words took him off guard and he immediately looked down at his watch, searching for the time so it could rescue him.

"Well, it's time to start class," he said awkwardly.

"Alright, I'll go get the others and bring them over. I'll talk to you more at lunch?"

Her forwardness put him at a loss. She actually wanted to talk to him?

"Uh, sure I guess," he answered lamely.

As she walked off, he shook his head. She was crazy. Purple hair, her attitude, she was off her rocker. And now he was stuck talking to her at lunch. Now he needed to think about what he was going to talk about. Maybe he would ask her where she was from after all.

 _A/N: Thanks Mockingjaybrandybuck for pointing out some SPaG errors! You are awesome!_


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

Today's class was keeping Snake on edge as he waited for something to go horribly wrong. He had gone over all the safety measures several times and had his students repeat it back to him one by one before he even started sending them to their stations. It was up to them to be responsible at this point.

He felt like a mother bird kicking her babies out of the nest, hoping they would fly.

If he was in charge of the curriculum of the program, he never would allow tactical knives or guns to be used. Unfortunately, he didn't get to – all of this was Mr. Naraan's great idea, and to be frank – he didn't know how this place hadn't been shut down. If he ran the business, the only way he would even consider tactical knives or guns would be if the student had prior experience and could prove it. This wasn't a shooting range, and he always became antsy having to improvise a makeshift one. There were plenty of techniques to teach without them – but try telling that to Mr. Naraan.

Snake made his way around, glancing at what each student was doing, barking at the ones who were drawing the knife towards themselves instead of away. Many of today's tasks were based on the individual instead of group, so his hands were full keeping track of everyone's progress.

He saw a tentative hand go up at the station in the corner in his peripheral vision and rushed over. It was Zahira, and upon examining her work, saw she had hardly made a dent into the task.

"Um, sorry, I'm just having a really hard time cutting through this?" she said sheepishly, her cheeks red.

"How much pressure are you applying when you try making a cut?" Snake asked trying to pin point the source of her problems.

"Um, as much as I can – maybe the knife is dull? I just can't cut through it," she answered.

That wasn't right. He knew the knives were sharp enough because he personally went through and maintained each of them. It had to be her grip, or something of that nature. She wasn't a frail thing though, she should of had no problems completing the task.

"Can you show me what you're doing?"

Zahira bit the insides of her cheeks and nodded. When she attempted to make the cut into the dummy, he noticed her hands were trembling, and her grip was loose. He nailed the issue on the head.

"Your hands are shaking, that's why you can't make a cut," Snake responded dryly.

She placed the knife down on the table and looked down at her feet, her long curly hair falling in front of her face.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I think I'm just having a hard time separating the fact that it's not a real animal because I'm just imagining getting lost in the middle of nowhere and having to do something like this."

Hearing her say that made him smile a little. She was soft, and not that there was anything wrong with that; it was just different from what he was used to.

Scratching the back of his head, he sighed, "Hey, it's alright. It's for emergency situations right? What's the likely hood of you winding up in the middle of nowhere with no way back to civilization?"

"I guess, you're right – If I wasn't heading off to the middle of nowhere for research."

"Er, well, I haven't covered edible plants in the region – few and far between as they might be," he replied backpedalling on his earlier statement.

Zahira let out a small laugh, "That's true, and besides, if my ideas do work, I'll have all the food I want."

"That's the spirit," he answered with a grin.

Picking up the knife again, he could see she was trying to correct her grip, but her hands were still trembling, and she let out a huff of frustration.

Tentatively, Snake placed his hand on top of hers to help steady her shaking. She looked up at him; her green eyes wide with surprise, making him look away in embarrassment. This was so unlike him. He normally never reached out as much as he was doing. Why was he putting himself out there?

"Um, I was just trying to help steady your grip is all, and this way you can feel how much pressure you need to actually make a cut?" he said trying to relieve some of the tension off himself.

"Alright," she answered quietly.

Her hand was smooth against the rough calluses of his own. They worked together, and finally the first layer of the dummy came off.

"So, wasn't so bad right?" he asked, taking his hand off of hers.

"No, no it wasn't. Thank you," she replied, "I think I can handle myself now."

Snake nodded, and left her to her devices. He wanted her to do well. He wasn't the sentimental type at all, but she had this bubbly warmth that made him want to see her succeed. She was hopeful and determined – at least from what he could tell about her from his class.

He scanned the rest of his students to see if anyone else was struggling while he was helping Zahira, and happily found that everyone else seemed to be catching on quickly. Which was good since a glance at his watch told him lunch was almost here – the godsend of the day. Although, he was going to have to budget his time wisely, seeing how he needed to wander around the market today to grab a bite to eat.

Thinking of lunch reminded him of the morning, however, and he angrily remembered her had forgotten to pack a cigar for himself. As much as he hated them, he could probably bum a cigarette off Zahira, except that would probably look bad on him. There were some things you couldn't do on the job, and asking a student for a cigarette probably counted as one. If he wasn't on thin ice with Mr. Naraan, he'd consider it, but for today it was probably best he just went without.

 _A/N: Ahhh. Sorry if this chapter is a little awkward? School has been killing me again with crunch time so I've been writing this chapter in little bursts. Anyway hope you enjoy it and thank you so much for reading and reviewing!_


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

Snake hurriedly dismissed his class for lunch. He was jumping for the chance to leave the camp's grounds so he could get to and from the market as fast as he could. He hated the market. It was loud, unpredictable and because he was a foreigner who couldn't speak Pashto to save his life, he always got ripped off. It was why he would always pack a lunch, or have something waiting for him in the staff room fridge. His plan was to go to the nearest street food vendor, but whatever they were selling and rush back, hoping that the whole ordeal would take no more than twenty minutes at most.

He was just about off the premises when he heard a breathy, high-pitched voice call after him, making him stop in his tracks.

"Hey, Ishmael! Wait!" the voice called.

Turning around, he wasn't surprised to see it was Zahira. A bemused smirk crossed his lips. She was a little clingy, wasn't she - although, he kind of had agreed to talk with her at lunch.

"Phoo, you sure sneak around fast, I didn't even see you leave," she laughed after catching her breath once she caught up with him.

He almost wanted to respond to her remark that of course he sneaked around quickly, he only trained in special ops for the better part of his military career. He spent the last few years of his career doing solo infiltration missions.

Instead, he just chuckled and said, "Comes with practice, I guess."

Zahira rolled her eyes and shook her head, "Uh, huh. Whatever that's supposed to mean, teach'."

Snake continued marching on while Zahira tried to keep up with his fast pace as he weaved among the locals who were also on their way to the market.

"Could you slow down? Maybe?"

Sighing, Snake dropped his speed until Zahira had finally caught up with him once again. He glared at her feet, willing them to move faster. She walked so _slowly_ and he wanted to get out of the hustle and bustle as quickly as possible.

"You don't need to walk so quickly, you can stop to smell the roses every once and a while, you know," Zahira stated matter-o-factly.

"Don't like crowds much," he responded with a shrug.

"Fair enough, but you're missing how beautiful everything is. I mean tell me one nice thing you've noticed since you've been here," she said, her arms folded over her chest.

Now she had stumped him. He just sort of took in his surroundings, not really caring if something was beautiful or not. The main questions that went through his mind were practical: who were the types of people in the area, was it a good area or a bad one, cultural norms so he could blend in if he needed to, building structures and the like. He found nature beautiful, but man-made things? It was all just as cruddy as the rest.

"The sky is pretty. Um, the mountains are pretty. The desert is pretty," he listed, "There, that's three things not just one."

Zahira shook her head and sighed in frustration, "You're missing the point. _Of course_ those are pretty, it's the little things though, like look at all the different colours of the vegetables piled up at some of the stalls, or the little vendor selling firaq partugs in so many vibrant colours."

"Sorry, all of that is lost on me. I just see food and women's clothing."

"Ishmael, you're impossible."

"Whatever that means, Purple Hair." Snake retorted smugly.

He watched in mischievous delight as her face contorted into a grouchy frown. Her red lips pouted and her muddy green eyes narrowed.

"Hey, I like my hair," she responded with an edge of bitterness.

"What's wrong with brown? Brown hair is nice."

"Well in my opinion, brown hair is boring," Zahira shot back at him, still pouting.

"Sometimes boring is nice," he shrugged, "I just don't understand why'd you want to wreck your hair."

Stopping in her tracks and looking him dead in the eyes she asked him, "Ishmael, do you like Marilyn Monroe?"

The question seemed to have come out of nowhere and he fumbled for a response. He didn't really look at women very often. He'd always just been focused on his career. There was EVA of course, that almost went somewhere but then didn't. He didn't like thinking about her either though. She was just another painful memory from his last mission. He was stupid for eventually falling for her charms. Could they blame him though? They nearly died together.

Sighing, he supposed he did in fact probably like Marilyn Monroe, just basing it off the fact that EVA was blonde and Monroe was as well.

"Sure, I like Marilyn Monroe. She's pretty I guess," he answered with another shrug.

"What colour is her hair?"

"Okay don't insult me, I know I only have one eye but Monroe doesn't have purple hair, it's blonde."

Once again, he received another eye-roll from Zahira, "Well obviously. But that's where you're wrong."

"You're trying to tell me Marilyn Monroe has purple hair,"

"Oh for the love of – no!" Zahira groaned in exasperation, "My point was her hair is brown."

"No, her hair is blonde," Snake replied gruffly.

"That's because she "wrecked" her hair to get the colour you like so much," Zahira answered.

Mouth hanging slightly open, Snake rubbed his hand on his face, "You've gotta' be kidding me. Well, the world's been jipped."

Proud of her work, Zahira let out a hearty laugh. She had won the round.

"Anyway, Zahira, it crossed my mind this morning, but your English is really good – you're not from here are you?'

"No, no I'm not," she answered, "why do I look like I'm from here?"

"Well, you have Arab features. Big eyes, I'm assuming from your roots dark hair, darker skin," Snake said.

"Hm, yeah, that would be right. My mother was from Kabul and my father is Turkish, but I grew up in America since they immigrated a while ago," she replied, "Also Ishmael, for future reference I'm letting you know it's rude to point out a girl's roots."

Rubbing his lips with his hands, he let out a sheepish, "Sorry."

"But yeah, I was born in Istanbul when my mom and dad moved back from Kabul, and then there was a huge emigration of skilled workers from Turkey to America around that time, so my dad just went with them," Zahira continued.

"Ah, what'd he do?" Snake asked, continuing the conversation.

"Oh, scientist too. He's more into research medicine though. I think he was a little disappointed that I didn't follow him into that field, but I know he's proud of me still for picking botany," she laughed.

"What about you? You're obviously not from here."

"American. Didn't really know my real parents though. I was just a rag-tag kid who eventually wound up in the army and travelled a lot because of it," Snake mentioned, skimming over his mentor The Boss. He didn't want to talk about her. He didn't want to talk about her in a past-tense.

"Sounds kind of rough."

"Some of it was. Some of it wasn't. Not everything was bad, I had a few close friends. I lost some of them, but every day was an adventure I guess," Snake answered quietly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't want to bring up any bad memories," Zahira apologized, and he could tell by the look on her face she felt bad about asking about his past.

"Don't worry. It kind of comes with the job description of being a soldier."

They walked together in some awkward silence for a time until they finally got a bite to eat and began walking back to camp. Snake made a mental note that he would have to get Zahira to teach him some Pashto since she seemed to run the street food vendor for his money. Bartering and haggling drove him crazy. He didn't know how people dealt with it. All he wanted was one simple and fair price. None of this arguing with the person to get something at its proper value.

"You know you've done a good job haggling when the vendor is _just_ slightly upset," she proclaimed taking a bite out of her kadu boloni.

"Easy for you to say. I get ripped off like no tomorrow no matter what I do," he said with a grimace before taking a bite out of his own chicken kabob.

"How about this, you train me in wilderness survival mumbo-jumbo, and I'll train you to survive an Afghan market with your wallet intact," She answered with a wide grin.

"Sure, I was just about to ask," he laughed

 _Some explanations. A firaq partug is the traditional dress of Afghan women. Google these because holy they are pretty._

 _A kadu boloni is an Afghan street food which is essentially a pancake stuffed with squash. There is also sabzi boloni which is stuffed with shaved potato and onion instead._


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

The rest of the day went along without a hitch. His class ended on time at three o'clock leaving him with the rest of his afternoon to lounge around at home. He was anxious to put his feet up, light up a cigar, and maybe treat himself to a small glass of scotch. The doctor said not to drink on the days he needed to use his Diazepam, but it wasn't like he was going to get drunk – he just needed something to unwind.

He'd done more socializing today than he had in months.

Snake got out of his work gear and into his regular clothes, a pair of khaki slacks and a simple white t-shirt, before stepping outside into the hot desert sun. He worked his way to edge of camp where once again, he was stopped by the same high-pitched, breathless voice of a girl running after him.

This time, he knew it was Zahira, and he turned around before she had caught up with him. Unsure of what to do, he waved awkwardly. What could she possibly want this time, now that she had gotten her lunchtime conversation?

"Hey-o," she said with a smile, wiping the sweat off her forehead.

"Uh, hi," Snake responded raising his eyebrows in confusion.

"What's with the face?" Zahira asked coyly, her smile turning into a smirk.

"Well, you already talked to me a lot today, I guess?" Snake replied rubbing his lips with his hand.

"Is there a one a day limit to how much I can talk to Ishmael or something?"

Snake closed his eyes and sighed, he should have pretended he didn't hear her. He would have been halfway home by now.

"Well no, it's just, I'm not the most cheerful and approachable person on the planet – I don't really understand why you'd want to talk to me so much," he answered – and it was the truth.

Zahira stretched and chuckled, "You're interesting, that's why."

"Interesting?" he responded, his confusion growing.

"Yes, interesting," she laughed, teasing him.

Snake shook his head; she had him at a loss once again.

"I don't know how you'd get that from me, but alright Purple," he answered with a small smile.

"Alright, Grumpy," She giggled.

So, he was "Grumpy" now. Snake rolled his eyes. Whatever, at least he wasn't some crazy, off-her rocker botanist.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Snake shuffled his feet unsure of what do next. All he could think about was going home. He wanted a shower, he wanted a nap, he wanted time to himself. He was exhausted, and it was straining him to keep a game-face on. Eight hours a day was more than enough.

"Anything you wanted though? I was going to head home – I'm bushed," he asked.

Zahira bit her lips, she was clearly embarrassed about something, but he wasn't sure what it was.

"Oh, well if you're tired it's alright," she replied, a little too quickly and uncomfortably, "I just wanted to ask if you wanted to wander around or come to my place for dinner or something," she finished, her face flushed.

Snake narrowed his brow in confusion, "Uh, dinner?"

"You know, I wanted to show you my research! Or what I have at least, it's still in the preliminary stages – at least the experiment that I'm going to conduct in the Registan. But, I figured since you asked maybe you'd be interested?" she rambled, her voice growing higher in pitch. Why was she embarrassed? He didn't get it.

"Maybe another time? I'm sorry, but I don't think I'd be much company right now, I need to go home and take a shower – I stink," he answered bluntly.

Clearly, what he had just said had only added to her embarrassment, and it made him even more confused. Women were a mystery.

"Alright," she said weakly, "but tomorrow? If you're free?"

"Lunch not good enough for you anymore?" Snake laughed.

"No!" she answered defensively, "but like I said, I find you interesting and I just thought it'd be nice," she concluded, trying to regain her composure.

"Well, only if you make dinner – you can save me doing dishes for the night, and I hate take-out."

"Excuse me; if I make food, you're cleaning up. That's how it works Grumpy."

Snake grinned before sauntering off, "Well, nothing lost, nothing gained,"

 _A/N: Shorter chapter this time! The next one will be longer._


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

So, he was going out for dinner with Zahira. He wasn't sure how this was going go – he couldn't remember the last time he actually went over to someone's place for dinner, or anything, really. It made him nervous as he finally tidied up for the day, changing out of his drab khaki button-up shirt and vest and into something more comfortable. He wasn't sure how late he would be staying, so he had packed a light jacket in his dusty and worn backpack that had been with him throughout a good portion of his military adventures, just in case.

Pulling on a black, crew cut t-shirt and an old pair of his desert-tiger camo cargo pants which had been his go-to for so long he had forgotten when he started wearing them. They were comfy, and they were practical. However, he felt something was off about his clothing choice and he looked down at himself and sighed. He had never been one to care about fashion trends, or anything of the sort, but this dinner was making him self-conscious. Why had he agreed to this? She was so pushy it was hard to say no, and her being a student made it even more awkward to refuse. He sighed again deeply, especially since she was actually interested in his class. He laced up his boots, and walked out the staff-room door.

Popping a cigar in his mouth, he walked to the edge of the campground, and waited for Zahira to catch up with him. He reached into his back pocket, and closed his eyes in frustration – that was right; he hadn't had time to replace his Zippo lighter. He was still choked about losing it – that thing had been with him since Korea. So, there he stood looking like a dumbass with an unlit cigar dangling from his mouth.

"Guess you need a light again?" The same familiar voice called.

He opened his eyes and nodded, "Yeah, haven't had time to replace my lighter."

Instead of passing the lighter as she had done before, she took the liberty of lighting his cigar for him. The action caught him by surprise, but he was able to mask it by inhaling the smoke quickly.

Blowing the smoke out of his mouth, he replied, "Thanks, ma'am."

Zahira scrunched up her eyes and lips, before letting out a laugh, "Oh come on, don't ma'am me. I'm not a crotchety old woman yet."

Snake had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. She wasn't a crotchety old woman, but she was sure something else.

Digging through her own jeans' pockets, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and fished one out. Coyly, she handed him her lighter with a smirk, "Light me up?"

Furrowing his brows, Snake took her lighter and rolled the striker wheel until a flame came out of the valve. After he was done, he looked at her lighter in the palm of his hand and shook his head, "Of course you would have a pink lighter."

Taking a drag of her own smoke, Zahira laughed, "Uh-huh. You didn't say anything about it before."

"I didn't notice it before," he shrugged, "anyway, you want to get going?"

"Sure, let's get out of here. My place isn't too far off," she answered with a smile as she began walking forward.

Snake glanced at the pink lighter in his hand, and the back at Zahira who was slowly walking away from him, and then back at the lighter, "Um, you want this back?"

Turning her head over her shoulder, she laughed and shook her head, "Nope. You keep it, I have a bunch at home."

"Um, if you say so," Snake muttered under his breath, before shoving it in his pocket and catching up with her.

A lighter was a lighter, but why'd it have to be pink?

They walked through the dusty streets together, Zahira leading the way. He could tell by the streets she was taking she lived further in the city than he did, because the buildings became more colourful and there was even more hustle and bustle. He also noticed how certain people stared at Zahira's hair, which made him grimace – he didn't like attention being drawn to him, and standing right next to her also made him a part of people's focus. The wandered down a few side streets, where there was significantly less traffic, and Snake felt like he could finally breathe again.

"Well, we're here," Zahira said, as they approached a medium sized, white apartment building with a pale blue door, "I'm on the first floor so, no stairs."

"No stairs is a good thing," Snake replied, the corners of his mouth turning up in a slight smile.

They entered in through the blue door, and made their way down the hallway, until they arrived at her suite, number five – this time with a red door. Zahira stuck her key in the door and turned the handle, "Well, home sweet home," she grinned.

Upon entering, the first thing he noticed were the many plants that lined her apartment. Looking up, there were potted plants in hanging baskets, there were flowers on the windowsill, there was a cacti arrangement on her white coffee table and there were daisies on her kitchen table. The next thing he noticed were the huge windows her home had, which he hadn't seen when they had entered from the blue door, which meant her suite must have been towards the rear of the building. The afternoon light streamed through, giving an inviting atmosphere, unlike his own home with its small windows and sparse furnishings.

He waited for her to slip off her runners in the entryway, glancing around the room a few more times.

"I already picked out the groceries yesterday, so feel free to sit down on the couch while I get things ready," she said as she waltzed her way to the kitchen.

Taking a few more steps inside, he unlaced his boots and placed them in a corner by the entrance. Standing up, he walked into the living room and looked at the couch and then at Zahira through the kitchen pass through, "I don't mind helping. I might not be the fanciest cook in the world, but I can hold my own."

Looking up at him, she laughed softly, "What about not having to make a mess, or having any of that stuff you said yesterday?"

"Well, I feel bad just sitting here while you do all the work," Snake replied scratching the back of his head.

Shrugging, Zahira answered, "If you insist, sure."

As he stepped into the kitchen, she pulled out the ingredients from the fridge: asparagus, a yellow squash, a bag of snap peas, green onions and a zucchini. She placed them neatly on the counter before rummaging through her cabinet for the remaining items.

"You want me to start cutting these?" he asked.

"Sure, the cutting board is in the cupboard to the left of the sink, and the knives are in the drawer above it," She replied reaching up for a bag of rice, standing on her tiptoes.

"You sure you don't want me to grab stuff either?" he laughed, bending down to grab the cutting board.

"Are you saying I'm short?" she replied with an edge to her voice.

"Well, you look like you could use a chair, is all I'm saying," Snake grinned smugly, as he began chopping the asparagus.

Zahira looked at him quizzically, trying to form a rebuttal in her head, but he could see she was grasping at straws.

"Well, you're a caveman who cuts his vegetables too thick," she answered lamely, her lips pursed into a pout.

"They're fine. They're vegetables. I don't know, I figured since we're only having veggies, I'd give myself something more to chew on," he teased.

"The asparagus should be this long," she answered, holding her thumb and her index finger approximately an inch apart, "not half the asparagus."

Snake shrugged and went back over his work, cutting them into inch long pieces as instructed.

"What are we making anyway?" he asked, looking over his shoulder to see what she was doing.

"A risotto, I'd make something more accessible since you've never really had tofu or anything," she replied turning on an element on the stove for a pot of water.

"What makes you think I haven't had tofu?" Snake asked, raising an eyebrow.

It was her turn to be smug now, "Ishmael, I can take one look at you and know you've never eaten a slice of tofu in your life."

"Well, I guess you've never eaten a corn snake, so we're even?" Snake laughed.

She paused for a moment her eyes widened in disbelief before she scrunched up her face in disgust, "I thought you were joking about the eating snakes part."

"Nope. They're delicious," he teased, "a little stringy, but once you kind of barbecue them, they're alright."

"Stop, you're going to make me lose my appetite before we eat," she laughed uncomfortably.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, smirking ever so slightly.

By the time they had finished cooking, it was around five o'clock. Zahira served the risotto for them both in glistening green ceramic bowls with painted flowers. The bowls made him smile at how feminine she was, even if she didn't seem to show it with her boyish style of dress. Sitting down at the table, bringing a bottle of wine with her, she played with her hair nervously. "Well, dig in I guess?"

"Sure thing," Snake answered, stretching his arms above his head before grabbing his fork, "smells nice, so it should be good."

And it was good. He was worried it wasn't going to be filling since it lacked protein, but he was definitely proven wrong. Looking up from his bowl, he realized Zahira was watching him nervously.

"Hey, it's good. I'm not complaining," he chuckled, reaching for the bottle of wine so he could pour his own glass.

He could hear her sigh in relief, and she finally started eating her own portion, "I was worried you wouldn't like it."

"Even if I didn't, I'd still eat it," he responded with a shrug. However, he noticed how his remark made her face fall and he quickly tried to backpedal on his words, "Um, not that this is bad! I swear."

"Okay good," she sighed again in relief, "don't scare me like that," she finished, taking a sip of her wine.

When Snake left her home, it was nine thirty in the evening, and he was glad he had packed a jacket for himself since the nights were cold, dropping into the high fifties and mid sixties. Zahira had seen him to the door, looking at him almost expectantly, but he couldn't place why. All he could sense was the slight disappointment in the air when he finally did leave. Which confused him, since they seemed to enjoy each other's company and the conversation seemed to flow – despite fighting over politics. It could also be the wine getting to his head, making him over think things that weren't really there.

Needless to say, despite begrudgingly agreeing to the dinner, he was glad he went after all.

 _A/N: OH MY GOD sorry for the no update in a while. I hope the length makes up for it. I graduate in like two weeks so school has been super cray, cray. I promise I'll be more active on here once my portfolio is all done and completed. THE TRIALS OF ART SCHOOL._

 _A/N APRIL 29, 2016: OKAY, I THINK I HAVE REVISED ALL THE CHAPTERS AND FIXED THE GRAMMATICAL ERRORS MOCKINGJAYBRANDYBUCK AND GALYA HAVE POINTED OUT. BLESS YOU GUYS._


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

 _A/N: Just a heads up guys but this chapter might be a little heavy since I'll be going into Snake's trauma. I am keeping the descriptions as mild as I can to keep with the T rating but I just thought I'd warn you guys since Snake did go through a lot of stuff. MGS fandom knows this, but I have a few fandom blind readers and I just want to make sure everyone's prepared. If you want to skip past it just look for the horizontal line. Also, warnings for accidental prescription drug abuse after the horizontal line. Um, THIS IS A HEAVY CHAPTER. Please let me know if I should bump this up to an M rating instead ._

Darkness surrounded him. He could feel his breath hot against his face as he struggled to draw in air. Something coarse pressed against his face, making him feel claustrophobic. His breaths grew shallower and faster – he was hyperventilating. There was pain around his wrists. He tried to shake free but couldn't no matter how hard he tried. His feet were hardly touching the ground. His chest tightened in panic. There were voices on the other side; he could hear them faintly, but couldn't make out the words.

And suddenly, there was pain, exploding in his sides and spreading out like hot fire throughout his entire body. A guttural noise filled the air. The pain began to subside and the noises stopped. More faint voices from across the black barrier. He tried to focus on what they were saying, anything to try and ground himself. But, before he could even begin to gain his bearing the same screeching pain ripped through his body. The same horrendous noise filled the air. There was shouting, but he couldn't focus on the words, and the pain wouldn't stop - it only grew worse and worse.

It was only later, when things seemed to quite down for a moment, he realized that the noise was the sound of him screaming.

"Cut out his eyes," he heard a deep voice snarl, "I don't like those blue eyes of his."

The rest was drowned out by the sound of his own heavy breathing, as he tried to control his fear.

"You made him a soldier, and now you will unmake him," The same voice leered.

And then the darkness left, and he was face to face with _her._ His brain couldn't process what he was seeing, he couldn't sort through his emotions: anger, rage, love, sorrow and betrayal. He wanted to curl into her arms and have her tell him it was going to be okay. She didn't really defect, it was all a bad dream and that she was there for him. Mom was there for him.

The Boss looked at him stoically, her ice blue eyes staring him down, a knife clutched poised in her gloved hand. As she brought the knife closer and closer to his eyes he blinked furiously, trying to prepare himself for the worst.

And suddenly just as the blade was about to gouge out his right eye, EVA jumped in front to save him, pushing the knife away. Only to have her loyalties questioned and tested by a round of Russian roulette.

He watched as Ocelot's spinning revolvers danced in the air, with each click of the trigger she cowered in fear.

He was angry now. EVA hadn't done anything wrong in this situation, but she shouldn't have risked her position to save his eyes. Ocelot was just as bad as Volgin. He enjoyed the fear of others. She didn't deserve this. He knew he wasn't going to stop until she was lying dead on the floor and he couldn't let that happen.

Swinging his aching body as hard as he could, he collided into Ocelot, throwing off his aim from EVA. However, he had over shot his mark, and before he could react, the revolver was pointing to his face. Before he could react, his right eye exploded in pain and his vision blurred to darkness.

Again, he was surrounded by darkness, and he could see nothing. He could feel nothing.

Until he heard the sound of helicopter blades. He was no longer in the torture room. He was high above a vast ocean, when he saw it, when he felt it. The red mushroom cloud billowing into the sky. He could feel the warmth from the blast. He could see his comrades talking amongst themselves in fear and in wonder. They were the test subjects of Bikini Atoll.

The cloud morphed into a fiery effigy of The Boss' screaming face, shouting at him, accusing him, " _Why did you kill me!"_ It kept screaming and screaming and growing closer and closer, to the point where he thought it would engulf him.

And then it was gone.

His body became light, floating through the darkness again until he landed gently on a field of white flowers, surrounding a quiet lake. He smiled for a moment, it was peaceful. The air smelled fresh and invigorating. He breathed it in deeply, greedily as he took the time to relax, his arms outstretched to his sides.

Except then it hit him. Why he was here.

Before he could push himself off the ground, he saw her, gun pointed to his head.

"I'm disappointed in you Jack, I thought I had trained you better," She said sadly, before pulling the trigger.

* * *

He woke up sweating. His eyes hammered open and he couldn't breathe. He rocked back and forth in his bed, his hands clawing at the back of his neck. He clenched his teeth trying not to scream as tears ran down his face.

"Fuck," he repeated over and over again helplessly, "fuck get out of my head, _please."_

He kept seeing her face, he kept seeing her dead body, the blood pooling underneath her, her lifeless eyes staring at him. He remembered the smile on her face, and that made it worse. Why couldn't she have been angry with him, enraged, something other than how she calmly accepted her fate? Why did she have to be so fucking patriotic to die for a country whose government would have her painted as a war criminal? All to cover up any involvement in looking for the Philosopher's Legacy. Didn't she know they didn't care? That they were disposable?

It would have been easier if she had just defected to the Soviets. If she really did betray everyone she had ever known.

Instead, she kept her noble cause, all because when she saw the world, high above in space, she saw no East, and no West and no borders. A world united – if only above was the same as below.

He had to choke back the sobs, his chest heaved and his mouth hung open in anguish but no sound would come out. It wasn't fair. He pounded his fist angrily into his mattress. His whole body was shaking.

How could he kill the woman who was like a mother to him? After his own parents had abandoned him since they couldn't afford to feed him and he was too young to land a job to help pay the bills. He remembered it like yesterday, stealing scraps, living off the charity of soup kitchens, sleeping in alleyways and empty churches. Until the day he saw her, and made the mistake of trying to snatch her wallet – was he in for a surprise. She kicked his scrawny fourteen-year-old ass. He must have been pretty pathetic looking, because it wasn't long after she decided to take him under her wing.

And he killed her.

He stumbled to the bathroom, having to clutch at the walls to steady his legs. His feet felt as heavy as lead. When he finally made it to the bathroom, he didn't even register his haggard reflection, instead her clumsily opened the cabinet and fumbled to find his pills. Advil, Tylenol, Aspirin – there it was, Diazepam.

With feeble shaking hands, he opened the prescription bottle and tried to shake out two pills. Instead, he shook out six – but he didn't even notice, nothing felt real. It was like watching himself in a movie except everything was spinning. Without a second thought, he tossed them back and crawled back to his bedroom.

His eyes locked onto his alarm clock, reading the angry red numbers, his alarm still buzzing on in a drone. It was nine o'clock.

Something wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He stood there for a while, contemplating in a haze.

Then it hit him like a tonne of bricks.

His eyes widened in disbelief. He was two hours late for work.

In a frenzy, he put on whatever clothes that were nearest to him, running out the door without even bothering to brush his hair or his teeth. Stumbling through the streets, he tried to avoid tripping over the untied laces of his boots. His stomach started cramping, but he clenched his teeth and kept trudging through the streets.

By the time he got to the front of the campground his head was spinning and he felt nauseous. He couldn't stand up straight. He saw a short man run towards him, yelling something that he couldn't quite understand.

"Ishmael, you're _two_ and a half hours late! What the hell! Are you trying to make my business a _joke?_ " Mr. Naraan yelled furiously, a vein visibly pulsing on his forehead.

Everything was slow. Moving his jaw to speak felt like it was stuck in molasses.

"Mmm sorry, Mister Naraan," He slurred, his words jumbling together.

Mr. Naraan's angry face split in two, both screaming at him in rage. His voice fluctuated in and out of his hearing.

He shoved himself up in his face, staring him down, "Ishmael, your pupils are the size of saucers. What the _hell_ have you done?" Mr. Naraan snarled.

He went on and on, ripping him one side and down the other, "You can't teach a class like this. Go home, get out of my sight and don't come back – you're fired."

But the words didn't register, and suddenly, he plunged into darkness.

 _A\N: I'm sorry for the heavy chapter, but when I was thinking of this story I really wanted to be about Snake confronting what happened in Snake Eater – I promise the other chapters won't be as heavy. Thanks you guys ;_;_

 _A/N MAY 10, 2016: Thanks to Galya for helping make some what's going on translate a little more clearly. Hooray for no mishaps lol._


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N MAY 10, 2016, Shout out to Galya for reviewing. You are amazing. Thanks for some of the minor SPaG errors._

 **CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

When his eyes opened, the first thing he noticed was the blinding white ceiling, the next thing was the burning sensation starting in his throat and leading down through his esophagus. The pain, which felt like the worst case of heartburn he had ever had, carried some odd familiarity to it. However, the fog, which permeated his brain, seemed to stop him from placing a finger on it. His limbs felt heavy, and moving his neck ever so slightly, exhausted him. The walls were so bright, and they hurt his eyes, causing him to squint as he tried to look at his surroundings.

Where was he, anyway? And why was it so bright?

His head was spinning, and he felt nauseous, but he tried to focus on where he was. He knew it certainly wasn't home.

He looked down at the bed he was sleeping on, unfamiliar and too soft for his liking. Not his bed. Clutching his chest tentatively, he felt the itchy cotton, mint green gown he was wearing. He definitely did not remember putting this on yesterday.

Yesterday. As Snake thought about it, yesterday did feel hazy.

He ran his fingers through his hair trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. As he was doing so, he felt something hard pressing against his scalp, and quickly pulled his hands out of his hair and examined them. There was a blue plastic clip on his index finger with a wire sticking out. His eyes followed the wire, which lead to a computer screen by his bedside. It took him a moment to register that it was his vital signs reading off the screen. He could see the waveform of his pulse zigzagging, and the number 67 reading in the bottom corner.

He was in the hospital?

Closing his eyes in frustration, he desperately tried to remember what had happened yesterday. The burning in his throat was beginning to bother him, and he wondered if a nurse would be stopping by his room so he could ask for a drink of water – and why he was here. As his mind began to clear, he could finally place why the burning felt familiar. It was like the first couple of days during the Snake Eater mission when he had just gotten out of the ICU. He had tubes stuck in him, and god knows what pumped into him for days, until they could get him walking again.

Snake shook his head in disbelief - tubes down his throat? What had happened to him yesterday?

He inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to stop himself from going into a panic. He lifted his arms examining them for any signs of damage, but found nothing out of the ordinary. He lifted the collar of his green gown and peeked underneath trying to see if there were any signs of what had happened on his chest – but there were also none. He threw his legs over the side of his bed, and sat up agitated.

"So, you're finally up?" A sullen voice called from the entrance of the room.

Snake turned his head to face the person who was talking to him, a tall man of probably fifty, with dark eyes and hair. As he walked over to his bedside, his lab coat trailed behind him. A clipboard was folded to his chest. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Well, if I knew why I was here, you wouldn't be asking me, would you, Doc?" Snake scoffed in annoyance.

"I'll take that as a 'no', then," the doctor replied monotonously.

Snake eyed the doctor impatiently, he wanted to know what happened to him, so he could get out of there. He hated hospitals. He hated how they smelled, the sterile air, and the hanging feeling of anxiety they gave him.

"You sir, ingested almost a one hundred and fifty milligrams of Diazepam and fainted in the street," the doctor stated coldly, "I'm surprised it hit you that hard, you're a big man. However, there were trace amounts of alcohol in your bloodstream so that might have increased the effects."

"That's not possible," Snake retorted, the anger rising in his voice, "I've been careful with my dosages and I only use that shit when I can't calm down on my own."

"Well, the fact still stands that we had to pump your stomach to get it out of your system, since you were out cold," the doctor replied, shrugging.

His eyes widened, and his mouth drooped open slightly. What the fuck had he done to himself?

"You're lucky, that girl," he stated, pointing to a sleeping Zahira curled up in a hard plastic chair, "called when she did. By the time you got here, we thought we'd have to bring the defibrillators out."

He almost died? What a joke. His lips scrunched into a sneer, almost snuffed out by a drug overdose. However, a part of him almost wished that was what had happened.

"You seem disappointed," the doctor noted.

"Maybe a little," Snake shrugged.

The doctor shook his head and began making his way out, however, Snake stopped him before he could leave. "So when am I getting out of here?"

"Not until we do a psychiatric evaluation, especially with that ans –"

Cutting him off angrily, he growled, "I don't need a god damn psych evaluation, alright?"

He scrunched the sheets of his bed between his fingers. "I'm not crazy, clearly it was an accident because I don't even remember taking that many."

Sighing loudly, the doctor scrunched his lips together in an effort to remain calm. "Listen to me, someone who's right in the head, doesn't accidentally take three times their regular dose and stumbles to work hardly presentable. You can fight me on this all you want, but you're not leaving here until you see a psychiatrist," he huffed before bustling out of the room.

Snake dropped his head back into his pillow exasperatedly. Well didn't he fucking regret not getting travellers' insurance. All he could think about were the bills this was going to rack up for him. And then he was going to have to get touchy, feely with a psych. Wasn't this a fan-fucking-tastic excursion? He felt like a caged animal.

Slamming his fist down angrily, he remembered that he had forgotten to ask the doctor for a glass of water for his throat.

"God damn it, I need a smoke," he muttered to himself.

There he was, trapped in his hospital bed. It had been five minutes and he could already feel himself dying of boredom. His gaze drifted to Zahira, he almost wanted to shout at her to wake her up, but thought better of it. He couldn't just jolt her awake because he was cranky and bored. Closing his eyes and sighing, his lips lifted into a small smile, she was something.

Opening his eyes again, his eyes darted about the room, before landing on Zahira again. It was funny, seeing her all curled up like that, her limbs awkwardly positioned in the chair, her head resting on the crook of her arm, propped up on her knee. Her thick hair fell across her shoulders and he could see a few stray strands flying in and out from her breath. In that moment, he supposed she was pretty in a way. She was naive and trusting – helping someone she hardly knew. He wished he still had that hopeful world-view, seeing the best in everyone. He was almost jealous of her.

It was a dangerous view though, he thought to himself as the guilt set in. She didn't even know his real name, and here she was helping him.

He shook his head, he needed to create distance between them. He was stupid for letting her get this close to begin with.

 _A/N: Okay so about how much Diazepam Snake took, I did a bunch of research and went on way too many forums to see how much he would have to take to actually OD, and it said that death happens in the 1000's of milligrams. Then I had to find what the average dosage he would take would be, and in adults it's around 10-20 mg if I recall correctly. So, I went with 20, and that would mean Snake ingested 120 mg of the drug - which is why I had the doctor say that he was surprised it hit him that hard. Alcohol and any benzodiazepine are a really, really bad combo because it can make you pass out, like Snake did. By the time he left Zahira's and went to bed it should have been fine for him to take his medicine without too much of a problem, but he took six pills, so it really messed with him._

 _Anyway I also chose Diazepam because researching what veterans were prescribed for PTSD in the Vietnam era is what it gave me. If anyone has any more info though, please PM me so I can make any adjustments! I tried my best to research all of this to make it plausible, but some info can be really hard to find ;_;_


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Confined to his hospital room, Snake drifted in and out of sleep. It was the only thing to do since his room didn't have a TV or a radio to keep him occupied. The psychiatrist was only in on Monday, which meant he was going to be stuck for the entire weekend, and they wanted run more blood tests to make sure his liver, stomach and kidneys weren't damaged. Each time he woke up, Zahira was either asleep or gone. It was like a bad game of phone tag. However, he was slightly thankful for the circumstances, as he tried to piece together a solution for the headache that was going to be creating distance between them. The whole predicament left him conflicted because she was a nice girl, and he was enjoying talking to her in the sense that she was his student and after the week was over she would be gone and moving on with her life. But, being in the hospital, and his job situation being up in the air, there was too much going on and she was getting too involved in his life.

Everything that had happened to him was beginning to surface, and he could vaguely remember having a nightmare and it taking over his system. He remembered sweating bullets in bed and stumbling to the washroom, but everything after that was a blur. Which frustrated him to no end.

Sitting in the room, gave him too much time to think, and he wished someone could go to his home and bring him a book or something to do. He'd even be happy with crossword puzzles at this point.

"I finally caught you while you were awake," that same and now familiar voice called out, lilting and sweet.

Snake bolted upright in his bed, and tried to make himself look presentable. He didn't want to look vulnerable. If he looked vulnerable, she would worry, and if she worried, she would stay.

"Yeah, I guess you did," he replied softly, he could feel his heart racing in his chest. How was he going to push her away?

"Well, I went out and I brought you some things to do. And some food, I had leftovers from when we made dinner together," she answered shyly. His anxiety must have been radiating in the room, making her uncomfortable.

Rummaging through her jean messenger bag, and pulled out some crossword puzzles, a fishing magazine and an English-language newspaper, and set them on the little table next to his bed. Snake rubbed his lips together with his hands, and looked away, the guilt setting in.

"You didn't need to do that," he said, his voice flat.

"I was talking with the doctors and they told me you wouldn't be let out until Monday, at the earliest. And Mr. Naraan said you didn't have any family, so I took it upon myself when he didn't," She replied, pulling out the same plastic chair she had been sleeping on earlier.

He shook his head, why did she have to be a sweetheart? He was a grown man, he could take care of himself. If he was bored out of his skull until Monday and had to eat hospital food, then he would deal with it. He didn't need her to watch over him.

"It's alright, I'm fine now," he answered stiffly, "you can go home if you want."

"I already did. I watered my plants and took some notebooks to work on solving a problem with my research that's been stumping me for a while, if you were sleeping," she responded.

"Oh well, in that case," Snake mumbled awkwardly.

What was he supposed to do now?

"Is there anything at home you need me to take care of for you? Any pets?" She asked sitting down, he could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

"No, no pets or anything," he answered, finally forcing himself to look at her.

He sighed loudly, and tried to find something to lighten the mood. Today wasn't going to be the day he pushed her away. He could tell that she wasn't going to let him as long as he was in the hospital. Good Samaritan syndrome.

"Want to illegally smoke out the window? If I can bum a cigarette off of you?" he asked, his voice tight and strained. He didn't know what to do, and his conscience was ripping him apart for giving her an opportunity to get closer to him.

Zahira shook her head and chuckled softly, "This is probably the only time I'm going to say no, to you. You just got your stomach pumped and you need to recover, I don't think a smoke is going to help."

Snake looked at her pleadingly, "Come on, I've had a rough go, and you probably need to relax too."

Letting out a loud sigh, Zahira finally caved. "You're right, I have been pretty stressed out."

Pushing himself out of bed, he fumbled over to the window, lightly grabbing the bedside table and taking small careful steps. Out of the corner of his good eye, he could see Zahira hovering, and getting ready to stand up, in case he lost his balance. Opening the window, he stuck his face out and felt the cool breeze on his face. It was refreshing after being cooped up in his small room.

"Looks like it's a nice night," Zahira commented as she fished out her pack of cigarettes and a lighter – this one was green.

"Yeah, it's clear out," Snake replied, nodding.

Scooting closer to him, so she could lean her head out the window, she plopped a cigarette in her mouth and lit it, before passing one to him. Taking a long drag, she closed her eyes, and blew out three perfect smoke rings. Snake watched in awe, it wasn't every day you saw a girl doing smoke tricks.

"Where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked taking a puff of his own smoke, making sure not to inhale, and instead smoking the cigarette like a cigar, and letting the smoke fill his mouth so he could taste it. Of course, it tasted horrible, and he had to stop himself from hacking. His throat was still burning, which also didn't help matters.

Zahira giggled a little, watching him struggle with the cigarette, but stopped when she saw Snake raising his eyebrow.

"In highschool, I was always a bit of a delinquent because I had skipped a bunch of grades since my dad was determined to make sure I was "smart". He'd sit down with me for hours, drilling math and science into my head," she laughed.

"You? A delinquent?" Snake replied in disbelief.

"Well I was three years younger than everyone who I graduated with, I felt like I had something to prove," Zahira shrugged before continuing, "anyway, the girl's name was Mable, who taught me. And really, I wasn't a _horrible_ kid, but I went to parties, and I snuck out here and there. Watched the occasional drag race with Mable and the girls."

He took another puff his cigarette, and looked behind him to make sure there weren't any doctors or nurses peaking in.

"Sounds like fun," Snake chuckled, "didn't expect that from you at all."

Smiling coyly, Zahira laughed, "Well, everyone has their surprises I guess."

Her remark, made him feel guilty again, and he looked away to hide his frown. Yeah, people were full of surprises. She didn't even know him.

"How old are you anyway then, Zahira?" He asked, looking down at the streets below, watching people going home after a long day at work.

"Okay, along with roots, you don't ask how old a girl is," Zahira said with a grin, "so I'm not telling."

Throwing up his hands, Snake rolled his eyes in exasperation, "It's a basic question. Why do women make such a big deal out of it?"

"Because we don't want to feel old," she said matter-of-factly.

"And men want to feel old?" He asked his voice rising in annoyance.

"Alright, alright, you got me," she laughed, "don't tell anyone, but I'm twenty-eight."

"Twenty-eight? Really, could've sworn you were seventeen," he teased.

Zahira raised her eyebrows and pouted her lips, "Really, Ishmael."

He had to stop himself from cringing at the mention of his fake name.

"Well, I mean with the purple hair – you look like one of those young punk rockers, or the hippies," he smirked.

"Good, I like the punk rockers and the hippies; they have their priorities straight as far as I'm concerned. Revolt against the government, peace and love – sounds great to me," She grinned, "besides I like being young at heart. Why do I have to grow up and get boring?"

Snake shook his head and took another drag of his smoke, "You're crazy," he mumbled under his breath.

He noticed Zahira looking behind her and saw her quickly snuff her cigarette out on the windowsill. She motioned for him to do the same and whispered, "The fuzz are here."

And sure enough, they could see a nurse walking past their door, and then stopping to poke her head in.

"Everything okay in here?" She asked suspiciously while she looked around the room, smelling the air. "Was someone smoking in here?"

The two both shook their heads, trying to hide the fact that they were caught red handed. "Nope, but someone below us is," Snake lied through his teeth.

The nurse paused for a moment, her lips drawn across her face in doubt, "Alright. But I just want to remind you that there is no smoking in the rooms, and if you want to smoke you have to go out into the courtyard."

"Yes, ma'am," the two replied in unison as the nurse finally left. They held their breath together and then once they knew she was out of earshot burst into laughter like a couple of schoolchildren.

"Now that was a close one," Zahira said between bouts of giggling.

"No shit," Snake agreed.

He sat back down on his bed, and Zahira went to her chair, pulling out her notebook, and pen.

"So what's the unsolvable problem?" he asked, letting his good mood get the better of him.

"Well, water is. On Mars there isn't any, and if there is it's frozen. On the moon, there isn't any water either. I need to try and find a way to fix that, which is why the Registan is perfect for testing once I have a solid plan on how I'm going to deal with the water problem," she answered.

"Couldn't you just fly water up to where you needed?" Snake asked scratching his head. Science was never his strong suit, and he remembered how he would always check out whenever Para-Medic would rant about the properties of certain plants or animals or how organic batteries like humans were different from regular batteries.

"No, because that would cost millions of dollars and take way too much time. Plus, it's not sustainable for any long term settlement."

"If this works are you going up into space after?" he asked, stroking his beard.

"That's the goal, one day," she replied, her eyes lighting up, "I want a Nobel Science Prize."

Snake's lips stretched into a small smile. This girl had dreams and plans for her life. He didn't want to get involved in it, and bring the craziness of his world into her future. She had a life ahead of her. He did not; the rest of his life was going to be a punishment for his sins.

"That's an admirable goal," he said softly, wishing he had the chance to plan his own life like that.

He glanced at Zahira and then at his hands; she needed to stay away from him if she was ever going to realize her dreams.

 _A/N: I love weekends~ the writing bug has hit me. Thank you guys for sticking with my story and stuff! :D_


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

On the second day of his stay at the hospital, he was finally able to wander about the courtyard – a small patch of green in the dusty desert. There were draping willow trees spread out along a stone path, and songbirds darted in and out of their branches. Since he felt uncomfortable sending Zahira to his home to get him a change of more comfortable clothes, he was stuck in the hospital gown. She had offered several times, but she had already done enough for him. Despite his protests, she was bringing him home-cooked meals once he had finished off the leftovers she had brought him.

In his hand, he clutched the English language newspaper book she had bought him, and he had a pen tucked into his gown collar by its cap. He was happy that she had gone home after lunch so she could take care of herself. It also gave him the time he needed alone. Walking down the stone path, he found a shady spot underneath one of the larger willows in the courtyard, and sat beneath it, rather than opting for a bench. The feel of the grass beneath him was refreshing and cool against his legs, and sighing he leaned back into the trunk of willow tree and opened up his newspaper.

Opening his eyes, he scanned the headlines for topics of interest, namely politics and economics. He knew that Pakistan had closed its borders to Afghanistan for a number of years because of Royal Prime Minister Daoud's pro-militia policies, causing them to rely heavily on the USSR as a trading partner. It caused an economic crisis for three long years, and despite the introduction of a new constitution by King Zahir Shah, there still was little faith in the monarchy. What he found frightening were the ties Daoud had with the PDPA, the People's Democratic Party of Afghanistan, and how he found ways to weasel himself in political affairs despite the new constitution stating that members of the royal family were to be excluded from the council of ministers.

He never understood why communist parties added the name "democratic" in everything they could. China was not a democratic nation, and neither was the USSR. It was almost as if they had conveniently forgotten what the word meant.

The headlines told him that there was rioting in the streets of Kabul even long after the 1965 elections. The radicals were getting antsy. It wouldn't take long before something broke out. Snake knew how these revolutions came about, all it would take was a coup and it was surprising how well angry citizens could turn on old crumbling monarchies.

He thought about the conversation he and Zahira had the night they had dinner together, and how she naively believed communism would be a good thing for the country. And, in some respects, he could agree with her, the basic principles of communism sounded great – but they were too good to be true. He wasn't a McCarthy who was afraid of communism, but having seen how people lived in Russia, he couldn't condone it. In his mind, it didn't matter how much the ideology rambled about destroying classes when the politicians still drove fancy cars and common people stood in line for an hour for a loaf of bread. Capitalism wasn't a great system either, but at least there was incentive.

There were more mentions of the USSR, and the growing tension with the West – the never-ending game of nuclear chicken. He closed the newspaper angrily and threw it on the ground beside him. He'd sacrificed himself for that stupid game. They should have just fired away and ended the whole mess, he thought bitterly.

Anything for the great pissing contest.

Pushing himself off of the grass, he stretched his arms above his head before making his way back to his room, his wonderful little jail cell. He wanted to get something to drink before he had to get his blood test done. Something he had been dreading since he had gotten up. It never mattered how many of them he had, he would never get used to someone sticking a needle into his arm. Bullet wounds, shrapnel, and the like he could handle. Hell, in Korea he had seen some nasty shit, and he was unfazed – needles though? Not on your life.

Entering his room, he set the newspaper down on the little table, when he heard the door open and a fit of giggles.

He craned his neck, recognizing the laughter as Zahira's, to see what was so funny.

Her hands pressed to her lips as she clearly tried to stop her laughter.

"Ishmael, were you outside?" she asked, her nose crinkled and her lips upturned in a smile.

He nodded slowly, confused. What the hell was so funny?

"Okay, because you have grass stains all over your butt," she answered, bursting into another fit of laughter.

His eyes widened in shock and he spun around trying to pin-point exactly where the grass stains were.

"Didn't know you were so keen on checking out my ass," he replied dryly, trying to stop himself from joining her in laughing, his mouth stretching into a grimace.

Zahira's face flushed and she started laughing even more, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"Oh no, I was not staring at your ass, no, no, no," she said between breaths.

"Really now," Snake questioned, trying not to crack into a shit-eating grin.

"Give me a break, those grass stains are huge!" she said holding her hands about six inches apart from each other to demonstrate how big they were.

Snake shook his head and plopped back down on his bed, grass stains and all. The whole scenario was hilarious, and reminded him of when Para-Medic was taking care of him after the Virtuous Mission, all hooked up in tubes in the ICU. When he had gotten out, he had asked her if she'd taken a good look – however, unlike Zahira, she was used to the dirty jokes from soldiers. Zahira's reaction was far more priceless.

"Anyway, what brings you here today – thought you were going home?" he asked nonchalantly.

"I did," she mumbled, "I was bored – had something on my mind."

Snake tilted his head in confusion, "Thought you said you had a lot of work to get done," not entirely buying her excuse.

He saw her cheeks redden again slightly, "I do, but well, I was just worried about you and your whole job situation, I guess," she paused for a moment, "and I was thinking of something just in case things don't work out with getting your job back."

Snake's face darkened and he looked away; it was one of the nurses who told him he'd lost his job when he had asked for more information on what had happened the day he passed out. He rubbed his chin and glanced back up at Zahira, forcing himself to look at her, "Listen, you've done enough for me. You need to stop." He said softly, but with a stern edge to his voice.

He watched carefully as Zahira's eyes widened and how she frowned slightly.

"It just happened so suddenly, and I think Mr. Naraan is wrong for doing th-"

Snake cut her off, "In the grand scheme of things he isn't. I'm a wild card at this point," he paused before continuing, "If he gives me my job back, I get it back. If not I have some money coming in enough to get me through the month before I find something else."

"But it was accident," Zahira protested, "and if he actually cared about something other than cash, he would be here making sure you were okay. I mean honestly, he was listed as your emergency contact. People fuck up," she sighed shaking her head, "that's why we're people."

He didn't find comfort in being told he fucked up, but didn't say anything. And even if he wanted to, Zahira kept rambling on.

"And if you let me finish. I wasn't coming up with an idea to get your job back, because I know he's not going to budge. What I _was_ going to do was offer you something, since I know finding another job is going to be tough. Your old boss is the type to go to other touristy places and spread the word of you being an unreliable employee and you don't speak Pashto - so living out here, it's going to be hard for you to find something that isn't in the tourism sector," she concluded, matching the stern tone he had used on her before.

"Zahira, I'm a grown man. I fought in Korea, I've been on missions that would make your blood curl and I've managed to make it out alive – I think I can take care of myself," he retorted, trying his best to remain calm.

She threw up her hands in exasperation, and let out a loud sigh, "I'm not trying to baby you. I just want to help. It's not like you have family to rely on here. If something went wrong for me and I couldn't get back to the U.S I could move to Kabul with my aunt. Just please hear me out,"

It was getting harder to stop himself from getting angry. He knew her heart was in the right place, but she was overstepping his boundaries. However, there was a voice at the back of his head that knew what she said had truth to it. Which made him even more frustrated because she was right.

But, he wouldn't let her know that.

"Who says I can't go back to the U.S?" he fired back.

"Ishmael, I was using that as an example for myself. If you want to go back to the U.S. then awesome. All the power to you," she sighed, relenting, "I was just thinking that if you were going to stay here, then I have a small research grant – but forget it," she said looking down at the floor.

"Zahira, don't play that tactic. Say what you were going to say – I hate it when women pull that card."

"What does me, being a woman have anything to do with it? Clearly you're not interested," she spat.

Well, if he wanted to distance himself from her, he was certainly doing a good job at this point. But, something was gnawing at him for making her upset. Why was he so unsure of himself?

"Alright, bad choice of words – but I'm telling you, you civilian women are so god damn touchy," he mumbled sheepishly.

She remained silent for a while, and it was then he realized how angry he had made her.

"Well, I need a guide into the Registan, and since you're good at what you do, I was going to ask if you wanted to do that. I wouldn't be able to pay you a lot, but you wouldn't have to look for work once you're out of the hospital," she sighed.

For fuck's sake, why oh why, did she have to be a sweetheart? Why did she have to run around wearing her heart on her sleeve? There was no way he could ever accept that offer.

Silence filled the room, and Snake couldn't bring himself to look at her. He was ashamed for being in such a vulnerable position.

The door swung open and the nurse who had almost caught them smoking called into the room, "Mr. Sears? It's time for your blood test, if you could come this way."

He stumbled out of his bed and tried to avoid eye contact with Zahira as he walked past. He felt even more embarrassed doing so because he remembered the grass stains she pointed out. What had been a funny joke, now made him feel on edge.

"Just think about it okay," he heard Zahira call to him as he finally left the room.


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

"Alright, Mr. Sears, can you put your right arm out for me?" the nurse asked politely as Snake squirmed in his seat.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered begrudgingly, placing his arm on the wooden armrest of his chair.

He watched nervously as he saw the nurse strap the tourniquet around his arm, and he pressed his lips together in a thin line. He hated needles. Hated them.

"Okay, if you relax this will be over quick," the nurse said soothingly, "if I can't find a vein I'm going to have to do it again."

Deep breaths. That's what he needed to do, but his eyes kept darting towards his arm. He clenched his teeth tightly together and he closed his eyes to force himself not look at the needle she was preparing.

"Alright, I'm going to count to three, I need you to relax your arm, Mr. Sears," the nurse instructed.

On the count of one, he inhaled deeply and tried to make his right arm relaxed, on the count of two he exhaled and tried to focus on something in the room, however on the count of three his head instinctively swirled to look at his arm, and his muscles tensed, causing the nurse to look at him incredulously.

"Mr. Sears, I told you not to tense up," she sighed as she tried to draw blood.

Snake winced and bit his lips hoping he wouldn't have to do it again. He glanced nervously, hoping for the vial to fill so the nurse wouldn't have to stab him again.

"You're lucky you have big veins, I was actually able to get one," the nurse mumbled hastily.

He sighed inwardly, grateful that the whole ordeal was over. As soon as the nurse swabbed the puncture and removed the tourniquet, he jumped out of seat, eager to head back to his room.

When he was given the okay by the nurse that he could finally leave, he hurried to his room, surprised to see that Zahira was gone. He swallowed in guilt – he hadn't realized the extent to which he had hurt her feelings. Unless he was over thinking her absence, which he may very well be. Closing the door, he waited for a few minutes in case she would come back. When he realized she wasn't, he took the opportunity to throw off his old, grass-stained gown and swap it out for a fresh one. Since he was alone, he didn't bother with the scrubs, and crawled into his bed.

If he didn't have Zahira popping in every now and again, he doubted if he ever would wear the scrubs to begin with. On the weekends when he didn't have work and could lounge at home all day, he would walk around his place uncovered. If no one was going to see him, he didn't see the point of dressing up. He didn't have anyone to impress at home, and nothing was more liberating than smoking out his bedroom window naked.

And wasn't he craving a cigar. All he had was that lousy cigarette he and Zahira had smoked, and since then, nothing. He had gone longer without having a cigar before, but that was on a mission, and his mind would be occupied enough to stave off the craving. He rolled over onto his side, and stared at the wall. He could have read the magazine Zahira brought for him, or do a crossword puzzle. But something was stopping him.

Everything had so recently become tied to her – Zahira, Zahira, Zahira – and he didn't know how he felt about it. She was a good conversationalist, was witty and funny and could be crass when she wanted. She was a sweetheart - too much of one. She was like a nagging mother, and clung to him like a lost puppy. What was she to him, anyway? He didn't know if he considered her a friend, and if she was, he didn't want her to be. He wanted her to drift out of his life, but it seemed that he couldn't get her to leave. She managed to weasel her way into his head and make him laugh. Somehow, she would get under his defenses and that scared him. The last person he let under his skin drugged his wine and almost killed him. But she wasn't like EVA, was she?

Rolling onto his back he stared at the ceiling instead, trying to count how many holes were in the panelling. When he lost count, his mind drifted again.

So what was he going to do, now that his job was gone? He could try to apply to other tourist camps, and hope that Mr. Naraan, hadn't bad-mouthed him to the others. He could try getting a job as a journalist –he thought as he glanced at the newspaper. But he was no writer.

His chest tightened as he thought of the other alternative. He could always go back to the U.S. He could go back to the FOX unit. But, he didn't want to be used as Major Zero's pawn. He didn't want to put his life on the line for a country that would try to cover its own ass without thinking of the consequences it put other people through. He didn't want to be a dog of the military. Barking when he was told to bark and biting when he was told to bite. If the suits hadn't harassed him every Friday since his resignation in his home in Arlington, he never would have come to Afghanistan. As soon as he landed, he knew he would be heckled by the CIA to come back. They wanted him. He was their best soldier, and they needed him. _The Legendary Soldier, Big Boss, and The Legendary Mercenary_ – all names they'd given him since he murdered his mentor, his mother.

And there was Zahira's option. Being her field guide in the Registan. He sighed deeply. What a mess he was in. It would be paid. He wouldn't have to worry about using his pension and have his transactions tracked by the CIA. After all, they'd found him in France, begging him to come back. He could keep using his second bank account under his fake name if he accepted her offer. Keeping his cover, it was the easiest transition, and it would save him worrying about next month's rent.

But then, where did it go? That too would eventually end, wouldn't it?

He wanted to punch a wall he was so frustrated. He didn't want to involve her in his life, but she was presenting the best option for him. It was something he was good at, because when it all came down, he was _not_ versatile. All he knew how to do was survive.

He thought when he left the military he could go to an uncomplicated life – but he had been more torn and confused trying to be a civilian than he ever had been as a soldier. He had to figure out what he wanted and he had never been in that position before. There were no orders for him to follow, no clear cut path.

How did they do it? How did they just decide what they wanted?

Snake lay in his bed and wished he had a TV or a radio to numb his brain, but instead he had the Things Zahira Brought Him and his thoughts.

 _A/N: So, I JUST GRADUATED ART SCHOOL. So now while looking for the jobs and the thing I will have all the time in the world to write, so you can expect more frequent updates. YAY._


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

It was a chilly Sunday morning, freakishly so for the summer. Through his window, Snake could see the overcast sky and could feel the dreariness set in. As far as any medical examinations, today his schedule was blissfully free, and he would be getting his results back from his blood test. He sat up in his bed, and looked at the time. The office clock above his door read nine thirty-five AM, nine hundred and thirty-five hours. He had gotten up early; it was the time Zahira usually came in, whether he was still sleeping or not. She probably was late. It was the weekend after all so it would be normal if she slept in – but he was feeling antsy. She would still come in to see him today, even after yesterday – wouldn't she?

Snake grabbed his eye patch from his bedside table and quickly slipped it on, before taking one of the half-finished crossword puzzle books Zahira had gotten him. In the short time of his stay at the hospital, he was becoming a champ at crosswords. There wasn't much else for him to do, if he didn't go an take a walk. The fishing magazine he was saving for last, since he was actually interested in it. If he finished everything else, he would still be able to look forward to reading it.

It had been ages since he had time to go fishing – properly anyway, not in the bush with a hunting knife, but with a real pole. He had gone with Python, an old comrade. They were smoking up a storm on that boat back in Virginia. The twin snakes, as they liked to joke.

Thinking about his old friend made him almost smile. The corners of his lips upturned, but his eyes remained sad and still. Another one lost to battle, before Snake Eater, in the jungles of Vietnam. They had been on a covert mission to gather intel for the CIA so they could aid the South Vietnamese against an invasion from the north. It had been four years already since that day in 1961.

His lips drew into a thin line and he tried to concentrate on the crossword puzzle in front of him, desperately trying to push out the memory of his friend's body going up in flames. Despite his efforts, he couldn't focus. He hated the hospital, and how it gave him too much time to think.

The hours passed, and there was still no sign of Zahira (maybe she would come in the evening). He had managed to get down all of ten words in his crossword before he had given up and decided to go to the cafeteria to grab food.

Since it was Sunday, the common areas of the hospital were full with other patients and their visitors. Families huddled around elderly grandparents, chatting up a storm, new mothers and the like. For the first time since coming to Afghanistan, Snake felt lonely.

"Sir, what can I get for you?" the voice of the man working the cafeteria called.

"Sir?" he called again, when Snake didn't respond.

Shaking his head, and getting out of his thoughts, he said, "A little bit of everything I guess."

Once he had gotten his meal, he sat down in one of the emptier corners of the room. He ate his food without tasting it. Zahira's was better.

Had he grown that attached to her pestering him in such a short time? He took another bite of his food, and then sighed. Maybe he did miss having friends. Someone to talk to. Since he left FOX, he hadn't stayed in contact with Para-Medic. Major Zero had double-crossed him. Python was dead. EVA was probably off in Vietnam somewhere, fighting with the communists. He closed his eyes and grimaced, The Boss was dead.

Taking a few more bites, he got up and threw out the remainder of his meal. His appetite was gone.

Tomorrow, he was going to see the shrink, and then at least, he hoped he'd be able to go home. At least at home he'd have his cigars and his whiskey. He didn't want to sit down with someone and talk about his feelings – and even if he wanted to, so much of what had happened to him was classified he wouldn't be able to speak about it anyway.

Approaching the door to his room, he closed his eyes and prayed that Zahira would be there, regretting that he had tried to push her away.

But she wasn't.

"She's not coming today, is she?" he mumbled to himself.

He crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling. He had fucked up.

It was six o'clock now, and there was still no sign of her. Seven o'clock brought more of the same.

When eight thirty came around, Snake rolled onto his side and gave up. He was going to sleep. Clearly, he had really upset her.

"Shoot, of course he would be sleeping," he heard a quiet voice mutter.

He knew who it was instantly. Jumping upright in his bed, a little more eagerly than normal, he answered, "No, not asleep. Not yet...please don't go."

Zahira turned to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise. She walked toward the chair by his bedside and sat down. "Are you sure you want me here?" she asked cautiously.

Snake leaned forward and sighed, "Yes," he paused and looked at her, "I'm sorry about yesterday."

She sat back in her chair, creating distance between them, "It's okay. I thought about it afterwards and I felt bad for pushing that on you."

He sat quietly, trying to figure out what to say. He wasn't good at this. He wasn't good at apologies or making friends or people in general.

"Well, sometimes people need to be pushed I guess," he answered weakly, unsure of himself.

Zahira shrugged at his remark.

"Um, anyway," he floundered, "where were you today?"

"I had a lot of work to get caught up on. I finished it around one today, and then I thought you needed space so I wasn't going to come," she concluded, glancing away from him.

Snake nodded. His heart was pounding again. "But you came anyway?"

She sighed deeply, "Yeah, I did."

"Why?"

Zahira looked up at the ceiling and then back at him. "Because you're an asshole – that's why."

What she had said took him off guard. Snake furrowed his brows and asked, "If I'm an asshole, why come back?"

"Anyone ever told you, that you're really thick?"

Snake tilted his head slightly and then shrugged, "Well, you aren't the first person to tell me that."

Zahira laughed quietly to herself, "Didn't think I was."

An awkward silence set between the two again. Zahira played with the hem of her shirt and Snake would look out the window every so often.

"So I thought about your offer," Snake said, trying to make eye contact with Zahira.

"Oh?" Zahira gasped in surprise.

"Yeah. I'll take you up on it under some conditions," Snake answered.

He could see the joy light up in Zahira's eyes. Her hands were clasped together in happiness. "That's great! I'm so excited, this will be awe-"

"Before you get too excited hear me out," Snake laughed cutting her off.

"Alright, alright, sorry," she replied giggling a little.

"Okay one, I need some time to recoup after this whole ordeal, so we only start next month. Two, I want another dinner," he answered, a tentative smile coming to his face.

Zahira looked at him dumbfounded, "That's it?" she asked in disbelief, "all you want is dinner?"

Snake sighed as his small, shy smile turned into a bold grin. "Yeah. You're a good cook."

His eyes lit up as he saw Zahira smile. It caught him off guard how pretty it was, fresh and white, and how her eyes scrunched up in the corners making tiny creases. His body felt light watching that smile.

"I, uh, well thank you Ishmael," she responded happily, her cheeks becoming pink.

"No problem," he laughed, scratching his head.

Zahira nodded happily, before her smile faded, becoming serious. She played with the hem of her shirt, shoulders tightening with worry.

"So, did you get your blood work results?" she asked cautiously. He could tell she was trying not to pry, especially since he had gotten angry with her yesterday.

"Yeah," he replied stiffly, "no damage – except what was already there from drinking and smoking." He paused for a moment and sighed, "I got off really lucky."

Her shoulders relaxed, and she let her head hang down in relief. "Thank God. That could have ended really badly."

Snake nodded solemnly in reply. It could have been a lot worse. He was thankful it came back as nothing. He supposed the doctors had gotten to his stomach in time.

"Let's hope tomorrow goes well for me too, so I can go home," he muttered quietly to himself.

Noticing his words, however, Zahira asked, "The psych evaluation?"

Another slow nod from Snake.

He could see that she was trying to come up with something optimistic to say to him. Something to make the whole thing easier to digest and was having a hard time with it. Her mouth was pursed and she looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"Well," she said finally looking back at him, "if you try to be a little open with them, they'll probably think better of you."

Shaking his head, Snake breathed in deeply, "It's okay. Honestly, I really don't want to talk, so I'm just giving them the bare minimum."

Zahira's eyes flashed with concern for a moment and he saw she was about to protest, but kept her mouth shut. What he said to her yesterday must be affecting her now, or else she would have spoken up, he knew it.

"Listen, I know what you're thinking," he chuckled, "you're an open book. What I need to do is forget, not talk."

However, one look at Zahira told him that she was not convinced.

"Do what you need, but it might help," she offered, trying to push him gently.

Sighing, Snake leaned forward and placed his hand gently on hers. He looked into her eyes, forcing himself not to look away, even if it made his heart start racing again. He wanted to make yesterday up to her.

"I'll think about it, okay?"


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

The psychiatrist's office was the same stark white as the rest of the hospital. The only difference was the black chaise he was sitting on and the large window looking into the courtyard. The desk in front of him sat empty, and he waited for someone to show up so he could be free of the whole trial. Twiddling his thumbs, he glanced around the room, taking note of the big bulky typewriter on the desk, and photos of waterfalls and other scenic landscapes on the walls. His appointment was supposed to be at eleven o'clock, but his nurse had insisted he go half an hour early to get settled before he had to speak to anyone. In his opinion, it was nothing but an annoyance.

The sound of the door opening drew his attention, and he propped himself up, his shoulders tensing as the psychiatrist walked in.

Turning to look at who he'd be dealing with he was caught off guard by how eerily familiar the man looked. He was older, Caucasian with thinning grey hair with prominent widow's peaks and round wire frame glasses. His eyes were what caught him off guard. There was something about their piercing gaze, and it felt like the man was looking right through him.

"Good morning Mr. Sears," the man greeted, showing a row of small pointy teeth. He could tell instantly by the way the man pronounced his vowels that he was Russian.

"Good morning," Snake replied stiffly.

Any work that had gone into calming himself down was now gone. There was something about the man's stare that he just couldn't shake. He recognized him from somewhere. But where?

The psychiatrist took a seat behind his desk and stretched his hands out in front of him before placing them down flat smooth wood.

"My name is Dr. Nikolaev, I'll be conducting your evaluation today," He said, his voice wheezy and breathy.

"Alright, let's get this started," Snake replied in Russian, watching intently as he saw the man's eyes widen in surprise.

Slipping into his own native tongue, the older man clasped his hands together, "You speak well. It's not every day I see an American who can speak the language."

Snake nodded a thank you, "I learned from the best."

"Clearly," he responded with a smile.

The psychiatrist nodded and pulled out his clipboard, which caused Snake to tense up even more. They were documenting this.

"So, I'm going to ask you a few questions. First, why don't you tell me about how you ended up in the hospital. From what the nurses and other doctors have told me you say it was accidental. Is this correct?"

Sighing Snake nodded and continued in Russian, "The memories are still blurry, but I remember having a nightmare, and trying to calm myself down. I went to the bathroom to take my pills but I guess I took too many and everything after that is blank."

Speaking in a foreign tongue was making it easier for him. It put a wall between he and the shrink, and it forced him to focus on his words, rather than his feelings. On top of that, if he was going to have to waste his time in the cramped little room, he may as well make it useful by brushing up on his Russian. It had almost been a year – too long if he wanted to remain fluent. It also seemed to soften the gaze of the shrink, who seemed impressed with his ability.

"Alright, and how long have you been taking this medication," the doctor asked, his voice droning, matching him in Russian.

"Almost a year," he replied dryly, "I only take them as needed, though."

He watched as the man continued to scribble his notes down on his clipboard, and Snake couldn't stop staring at his eyes. Something kept bothering him about them, and he couldn't shake the feeling he had seen them before.

"Can you describe the nightmare for me?"

Snake's chest tightened. He didn't want to. He didn't want to bring up the memory in his mind again.

"I can't remember," he lied through his teeth.

The doctor, however, did not look convinced, but he continued to weave his way around Snake's prickly demeanor. Instead of dropping the subject, he phrased it another way, "How long have you been having the nightmares?"

Snake shrugged and repeated himself, "Almost a year, after I came back from a mission."

More scribbling. Another question.

"A mission. What do you do for work, Mr. Sears?"

"I was a soldier for the US military, but I'm retired now."

The doctor looked down at his notes and then back up at him. The man didn't have a unnerving countenance, but it was his eyes again. Even with his guard lowered, something was off. He couldn't place it, but they almost looked dead. And the more he focused on the doctor's eyes, the more he noticed how the cornea, especially his left eye was flecked with grey.

"How long were you enlisted?"

"Since I was fifteen," he answered.

Where had he seen this person before? He desperately wracked his brain, trying to see if the name rang any bells.

"What about your parents?"

"Dead."

The psychiatrist paused for a moment, his calm smile turning into a frown. He looked at Snake sympathetically, "Was it recent?"

"Yes," Snake answered through gritted teeth as he tried to push out the images of The Boss' lifeless corpse flashing through his mind.

"Were you on good terms with them?"

Snaked sighed loudly and held his head in his palms. All of these questions were annoying him. He didn't want to delve any further, but if he didn't he wouldn't get to go home. His plan of speaking in a foreign tongue to distance himself wasn't working, he still felt the sinking pain in his chest.

"It was complicated. My mother raised me well though, despite all of it."

"And your father?" The psychiatrist asked cautiously, his voice trailing off.

"A drunk son of a bitch."

He could see the man was taken aback by his crassness. But it was true; what kind of father left his birth mother to scrounge for what little earnings she could while he sat at home and drank himself to death. And, the person he considered his true mother, their relationship had become anything short of normal once she disappeared for years, only to return into his life as an enemy.

More scribbles on his clipboard. Just what was he writing about him anyway?

"As far as lifestyle choices, do you drink or smoke?"

Leaning back in his chair, Snake looked up at the ceiling, begging to for someone to release him from the little hell that was this doctor's office.

"I smoke more than I drink," he stated curtly, which reminded him how much he was craving one of his Cubans at home.

Finally, the man set the clipboard down, and stopped writing, "Alright, Mr. Sears, answer honestly, have you at any point considered or attempted suicide, other than this incident?"

Snake scowled and his lips curled in disgust, "I did not try to fucking kill myself. What, do you think I'm a coward? Why would I ever try something like that?" He could feel the hot, burning anger rising in his chest.

He saw the older man shrink back into his seat, as he began back-pedalling on his previous comment, "I would never imply such a thing. You see, it is my job to ask."

"Well, the answer is 'no'," Snake spat. "Can I please go home?" he begged, his patience finally reaching its limit. "I'm not going to go blow my brains out, just please let me go home."

"You can go home, Mr. Sears, I see that you're not lying when you say that you're not going to kill yourself, " the doctor said, "but I still think you're in need of help. So, I want you to come once a week, for the rest of the month. I'm not going to be here for your other appointments since I'm being transferred back to my own office in Kabul, but Dr. Saab is a lovely lady."

Snake gritted his teeth together, knowing that if he protested he would lose clear to go home. He didn't want to talk about his life.

"Great, can I leave now?"

The doctor shook his head, "Not yet, I need you to sign this document, ensuring that you will come back for your follow-up appointment, and I'm writing you a script for Quetiapine, it should help with the nightmares better than the Diazepam. Take it before bed and it'll knock you right out."

Snake rolled his eyes. Another fucking drug to put into his system.

Once he had signed the papers and taken the script from, he rushed out of the office. He was eager to get back to his room, away from the doctor. His eyes were still giving him chills. But Snake pushed the thought out of his mind, he would have all the time in the world at home to figure out who it was once he got home. All he cared about right now was telling Zahira the good news so he could finally leave this wretched place.

* * *

"So? How did it go?"

They were the first words out of Zahira's mouth as he walked through the door into his room. Her hair tied up in a high ponytail, so she could work on her pages of notes stacked on the little table next to his bedside. She wore a pair of body hugging jeans that stopped just above her calves, and a loose grey sweater. Snake smiled to himself, she looked – comfy.

"Well, it was good news," he answered brightly.

She perked up, stepping away from her notes, "Yeah?"

"I can go home today," he said, grinning.

Zahira lips broke into a huge smile, her eyes lighting up with joy. She quickly pushed herself out of the chair, and ran over to him, arms outstretched, and hugged him. The gesture caught him by surprise, and he stood stock still for a moment, trying to process what was happening.

"I'm so happy for you," she laughed, the excitement in her voice ringing through his ears.

Once he registered the fact she was hugging him, he awkwardly placed his arms around her. He could feel his cheeks growing warm as a blush spread across his face. She smelled nice, like a fresh mix of flowers.

"Thank you," he replied, pulling himself away, looking at the floor.

"So, when do you get to leave?" she asked, clasping her hands together.

"I could leave now. As far as I know there isn't anything else I need to do here."

Zahira, gave a little hop of excitement, and Snake couldn't help but laugh at her childish antics. Everything about her in that moment was so bright and infectious. She began gathering her things, placing them into her jean messenger bag.

"I'll go get the nurse to bring your things so you can change out of the hospital gear," she said, making her way out the door.

As she walked out, he caught himself staring at the way her hips slightly swayed to the left, and then the right as she walked. Her walk, it was, well, cute, he supposed. Catching his thoughts, he kicked himself mentally. Why was he noticing something like that now, when it never crossed his mind before? Sitting down in Zahira's chair, he sighed. This girl was going to be bad news for him. But, he thought to himself smirking, there wasn't much he could do about it now that he'd agreed to her little offer.

It only took a few minutes before she was back again, with a nurse, his clothes neatly folded in the latter's arms.

"Mr. Sears, you're free to go," the nurse said placing his clothes on the side of his bed. "Since you came in and checked with me, as soon as you're ready you can walk on out."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, dipping his head slightly in thanks.

The nurse nodded back in acknowledgement before walking out of the room to attend to her other duties.

Snake stood up, and shimmied back onto his bed. He was curious to see what clothes he had thrown on in haste the morning he had collapsed. Seeing his familiar tiger stripe cargo pants and a plain grey shirt, he sighed in relief. He had been dreading this moment, anxious to see what kind of idiot clothes his impaired self picked out. Thankfully, he didn't own anything too embarrassing anyway. Still, it was a comfort that he wasn't going home in a pair of dress pants and a sweatshirt.

"Um, Zahira?" he asked, looking up at her. "Is it alright if you leave? I don't really want to offend your lady-like sensibilities," he chuckled.

He watched in satisfaction as he saw her face turn red again, and that smug smile crawled across his lips. The poor girl nodded and stammered, before exiting his room.

"I'll just be by the door," the poor girl nodded and stammered, before exiting his room.

When he heard the door click shut, Snake hastily stripped out of hospital gown and scrubs and into his own clothes. Pulling his shirt over his head, he was surprised to find it smelled nice, as if it had been recently laundered, and the material had a crisp starchy feel. His pants and his boxers were the same. Once he slipped on his boots, and quickly tied up his laces, he opened the door and leaned against the door jam.

"Ready to go when you are," he said with a grin.

"I'm ready!" Zahira replied, pushing herself off the wall.

As the two walked down the hallway, Snake felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over him. He was finally going home. He could finally sit down, have a Cuban, and listen to the radio. And he wouldn't be confined to the four walls of his room.

"I guess the nurse washed my clothes. They smell clean," he said to Zahira, creating conversation.

He saw Zahira slow down a bit, looking down at her feet. "Um, actually that was me," she laughed nervously. "You wouldn't let me go to your place to pick up a change of clothes, and I didn't think you'd want to go home in something dirty," she continued.

Snake tilted his gaze towards her and shook his head. "Well, thank you, again."

Knowing that made him slightly uncomfortable, simply because he didn't like other people taking care of him, but he knew she meant well. Sighing to himself, he realized he was probably going to have to get used to it a little bit since he made the decision to keep the girl in his life. A brain dead decision, but pushing her out made him feel guilty. And, it wasn't like she was giving him the choice to push her out in the first place.

Stepping outside of the hospital, Snake stopped and took a deep breath. The air was clear and fresh. The smell of sickness wasn't present in the open desert air. He noticed Zahira staring at him while he took it all in, and smiled. It was odd for him to be smiling this much, and his jaw almost hurt from it.

"You seem happy," she giggled, as they continued their way from the hospital down the busy streets.

"I am," he laughed. "Haven't felt this good in a while actually."

* * *

By the time they finally reached his home, Snake was beat. The sun pounded on their backs the entire way, and the streets were crowded which made the heat even worse. Leading Zahira up the stairs to his apartment, he felt himself get nervous again. Part of him wanted the time alone, but another part of him felt it would be rude to turn her away after she came all this way. He fumbled for his keys as he tried to think of what he would do.

"So this is where you live," Zahira said, her voice calm and happy.

"Yup. Not much, but it'll do," he responded, slightly preoccupied.

"So, Ishmael, do you want me to go home? Or can I come in for a bit?" she asked, her eyes flitting down and then back up at him.

Snake sighed, as he put his key in the door. He wasn't sure what to do. Pausing for a moment he closed his eyes and thought.

"Yeah, you can come in for a bit," he said, smiling reluctantly.

It was the least he could do after she had spent all that time looking after him in the hospital.

Opening the door to his home, he walked in and the familiar faint scent of his Cubans made him feel relaxed instantly. He stepped to the side so Zahira could walk in while he took off his boots.

"Sorry for the mess," he said sheepishly.

Slipping off her shoes, Zahira shook her head and laughed, "What mess? Your place is immaculate."

"Well, it's gone five days without a good dusting," he shrugged.

Zahira looked at him incredulously, "Gosh, Ishmael, if five days without dusting is what you call messy, then my home must have been a garbage dump to you."

Snake chuckled, "No, no, it wasn't. Your place is tidy. And a lot nicer than mine."

"Oh hush," she giggled, making her way into the living room. "Mind if I sit down?"

Snake shrugged, "Of course, it's kind of what the couch is there for, right?"

She sat down on his couch, and he could see her eyes dart along, taking in his home. Her eyes lingered on the books her was reading, and he saw a small gentle smile cross her lips.

"I didn't know you could speak so many languages," she breathed.

"You pick it up as you travel," he answered matter-o-factly.

Her gaze met his, incredulous, "You don't just pick it up like this from travelling though."

Another shrug, "Well, I," he cringed, not wanting to talk about The Boss, "someone I knew taught me."

Trying to dodge any questions, he teetered to the kitchen, "Can I get you some water?"

He heard her call out a 'yes' and made his escape, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. He went to his fridge and opened the freezer, grabbed some ice, and filled the glasses with water at the sink.

"Two waters, coming right up," he jested as he entered the living room again.

Zahira, sat up straight, taking one of the glasses in her hands, "Oooh, ice. Fancy."

"I don't really have guests, so might as well pamper you, since you're the first," Snake laughed, deep and hearty.

Sitting down next to her, he held his glass while reaching to the second shelf of the coffee table for some coasters. He hated water marks, and even though the table wasn't all that expensive, he still wanted to take care of it so it lasted.

"Oh boy, you're a coaster guy," Zahira sighed, "I'm so sorry, but I'm terrible at remembering to use these things."

Taking a sip of his water, he shook his head, "For the sake of our business deal, you're going to learn to remember to use them. It annoys the shit out of me when people don't."

Zahira laughed softly, and leaned further back into the cushions of his burgundy couch. "I guess I have something to work on."

Closing her eyes, and yawning, Zahira stretched her arms behind her head. The summer heat was making them both sleepy, and even now, he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The two sat in an easy silence sipping their water. Each of them too tired to really think of anything to talk about. Snake observed her quietly, still trying to get a read on the odd girl who had barged into his life. The paranoid part of his brain did question her kindness still. The girl could very well be a KGB, or a CIA agent – but she seemed too naive for that.

"Hey Ishmael," she said, standing up, "I'm going to head out now, but thanks for having me over."

Snake nodded, placing his glass on his coaster (like a civilized human being), and saw her to the door. "No problem. It was the least I could do," he answered softly, shrugging his shoulders.

They lingered in the doorway, Zahira with that same expectant look in her eyes, that even sober he couldn't understand. What did she want from him?

She squeezed his hand gently, which caught him by surprise, making him blush. "See yah."

And with that she was gone.

Snake stood in the doorway for a while, trying to figure out what was going on in that young girl's head. When he couldn't, he sighed and closed the door. She was strange alright. Walking into the living room, he plopped himself back down on his couch, grabbing a book from the top of the pile. When he opened it, a small piece of paper floated down onto his chest.

It was a scrap of notebook paper, and the script was distinctly feminine, although somewhat of a scrawl.

 _"Hey remember to call me. You said you wanted dinner as one of your conditions, right?"_ the note began. Below she had written her phone number and signed her name.

He laughed to himself: the girl was crazy. She must have slipped the note in while he was getting their glasses of water.

"You could have just told me, you silly girl," he shook his head, and put the note on the coffee table.

 _A/N: So, LONG CHAPTER. Since I have more time to write because school is done, I have a feeling my chapters are going to get longer? Oops lol. Anyway I hope this one was okay. There were some parts I found a little awkward to write . But AH. Anyway thank you so much for reading and I really appreciate it you guys c:_

 _Um also Snake says some harsh stuff relating to a sensitive topic, and in no way does that reflect my opinions on the subject? If you guys ever feel that low and down please reach out to someone and get help. This is coming from someone who's had to deal with depression and icky things like that. You're strong and amazing and keep keeping on._


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed! I love you guys ;_; Special shout out to mockingjaybrandybuck, Galya and imjane c: Also heads up for my fandom blind readers, I suggest wiki'ing The Sorrow from Metal Gear, just to get a better sense of who he is? Also so you can gain more context I guess?_

 **CHAPTER TWENTY**

After Zahira had left, Snake tried his hardest to concentrate on at least one of the books he was reading. However, he was at a loss, his mind drifting to the psychiatrist he saw this morning. It didn't matter how many times he read the same page over and over again, he just wasn't retaining anything. Frustrated, he pushed himself off of the couch, and fiddled with the radio. There had to be something good playing on some station. Yet, he couldn't find anything he liked – everything was too saccharine for him. The Beatles were too upbeat, and if he ever heard the stupid song by Sonny and Cher again he swore he was going to puke.

Sighing, he flicked off the radio and shambled into his bedroom. Frowning, he ran a hand through his hair – his bed was still a mess from the day he collapsed. The sheets were strewn across the floor, and his blankets were balled up in a heap.

"Looks like a dog slept here," he muttered to himself.

Bending down, he picked up a section of his sheets and dragged them over to his bed. He took a corner a pressed it to his face and inhaled. His nose scrunched and he pulled his head away. The sheets desperately needed a good wash. They smelled a little too much like sweat for his own liking. However, that would have to wait for Wednesday, his scheduled laundry day. Trying his best to look on the bright side, he told himself that it would just be two days of filth and then everything would be back to normal.

With his bed made, Snake sat on the edge and stared at his armoire, zoning out. Alone again, and in his own home, he was forced to process what had happened to him for the thousandth time. Ruminating seemed to be all that he was good at in his attempt at civilian life. In some twisted sense, he almost wished the silly girl had stayed over longer – at least she could act as a distraction. Maybe that's why he really took her up on the offer. He needed a distraction.

Getting up, he rummaged through his armoire, shoving past his clothes and reaching for the back. He knew it was in there somewhere, past his old uniforms. When he felt a rounded wooden corner, his lips perked up in a half-smile. There it was.

It was a shabby wooden phonograph from the forties, a real relic compared to the turntables that were out now. But what it had on the other new models was the fact he didn't need a sound system to listen to records. Sure, the sound quality wasn't the best, and having to hand crank it was a pain – but it was nostalgic. Something from his life when things were better and brighter. He made some room for it on his night table and set it down before diving back in his armoire to fish up the records that were lying at the bottom.

He laid out his records on the bed, trying to decide which one to play. All of them were near to his heart. They were the songs that made up his childhood – well the better half of it with The Boss. She was a stern woman, but whenever he had finished his Russian homework, or did really well in training that day, she would throw a record on, and she would hum along. It would always be jazz or swing. No Elvis was allowed in the house, much to his teenage dismay.

Looking at the records he sighed and threw on Nat King Cole. The Boss was never very vocal about the things she liked, but he knew it was her favourite just by how often she used to put the record on. He remembered how sometimes she'd play it late at night quietly, after she had sent him to bed. And how one night, when he snuck out of bed to get a drink of water, he saw her in the foyer of their home dancing in someone's arms. He hadn't seen him before, but The Boss had seemed so at peace with the odd looking man. From the top of the staircase where he stood, he couldn't quite make out The Boss' dancing partner's features, except for his thinning grey hair and round glasses. He could still recall them speaking in hushed tones, so he couldn't make out what they were saying.

It was strange looking back at that memory of The Boss. She had always been a mother to him, so it was hard for him to see her ever romantically attached to anyone. Even more so with the type of person she was. Even in the ten years of knowing her, she never once told him her real name, so he couldn't imagine her ever opening herself up to someone like that.

The Sorrow, her lover, was an interesting character, once he learned about him from Sigint, a supposed psychic who could hear the voices of the dead on the battlefield. A tactic he would use to pin-point death traps and the like set up by the enemy. According to the rumours, The Boss and he were the perfect pair in the midst of fighting. The Joy and The Sorrow.

Unfortunately, their story didn't end happily.

Looking at it now, it was almost poetic how they had both been screwed over time and time again by a country that they were supposed to protect. Snake let out a dry laugh. It really was too rich. Forced to kill her lover. Forced to kill his mentor. Each a disposable lap dog. Where The Boss and he differed, was her unfailing loyalty steered by her iron sense of morality.

He could hear her words clear as day, "There's a saying in the Orient – 'Loyalty to the end' – do you know what that means, Jack? It means devoting oneself to your country. As long as we have 'loyalty to the end', there's no point in believing in anything, not even in those we love. "

She had told him, the only thing a soldier could believe in with absolute certainty, was the mission. And had someone asked him before Snake Eater, he would have agreed. But now? No, nothing was certain, least of all the mission.

Stretching out his right arm, Snake examined his right hand, fingers calloused from the years of battle. A scar between his thumb and index finger when a soldier in Korea had bitten him, and nicks from cutting himself on rocks and roots or glass. All memories that told he had survived. This was the same hand that had pulled the trigger.

He grasped the air angrily. Ruminating again.

The record stopped and Snake got off the bed to flip over the record.

The psychiatrist's face popped into his head again, and he stood in front of the phonograph dumb-founded.

"No way," he breathed.

It was a sick joke. There was no possible way.

Snake felt his chest tighten and he forced himself to inhale slowly as he tried to control his breathing.

He was dead. He was dead. But the resemblance was uncanny.

Now he knew where those eyes looked familiar. Now he knew.

"You have to haunt me from beyond the grave? Once wasn't enough?" Snake laughed pathetically.

His mind was racing, this was too much. At this rate, he was going to break and really go to the loony bin. He was seeing things. Reading too much into things. It had to be all the stress from losing his job, and being in the hospital.

Snake walked from his bedroom to the bathroom, and opened up the cabinet. He reached for his medicine and began twisting off the lid.

He took a long look at the pills in the jar.

He shook his head.

He took another long look, and inhaled deeply, before dumping its contents into the toilet and flushing.

This shit had made his problems worse.

The tightness in his chest remained, and he wandered to the kitchen, pouring himself a stiff drink. He wouldn't take any more pills. If he needed to calm down, he would take a smoke, he would drink a beer. But he refused to put another pill into his body.

The whiskey burned as it slid down his throat.

Tonight he was going to have his own sort of therapy.

* * *

Snake woke up the next morning feeling like his head was full of lead. The backs of his eyes burned and he felt sick to his stomach. His back ached and his neck was stiff. Everything felt like the telltale signs of a hangover from hell.

Rolling over onto his back, Snake shielded his eyes with his forearm as he slowly opened them. The light streaming through his living room window still managed to find a crevice, causing him to slam his eyes shut as the sunlight seared them. He let out a soft moan of discomfort before crawling haphazardly to the window, drawing the blinds. With the blinds drawn, he let himself fall back on the floor with a _thud_ , before crawling back to his previous spot. He opened his eyes again, and flailed for his bottle of whiskey, his vision still blurry. His good eye still needed to adjust to the lighting. Once he could see a little more clearly, he inched his body closer to the bottle, reached for it and missed again, his depth perception off as he forgot to compensate for his bad eye. Sighing he pressed his forehead against the cool floor, and let his body go limp. Why was he trying? The bottle was more than likely empty if he was this up the creek.

His head pounded, and he tried to remember exactly what he did last night.

However, his thoughts were interrupted by a piercing _ring, ring, ring!_

Snake groaned, lazily placing a hand over the side of his ear.

The ringing continued as he stumbled to the phone in the kitchen. The piercing noise causing him more discomfort as he drew closer to its source.

Picking up the phone, he held it with his shoulder and leaned against the wall for support, his head spinning circles.

"Hullo?" he drawled into the receiver.

"Good afternoon, Ishmael," the voice on the other end replied nasally and grating.

Snake couldn't help but sigh audibly into the receiver. This was the last person he wanted to talk to while he was feeling like this.

"What do you want Mr. Naraan," he replied gruffly. His brows contorted as he tried not to slur his words together.

"I'm just reiterating the fact that you're no longer employed here."

Snake smirked, "Thanks for your concern. You really showed how much you cared when you came to visit all those days and nights at the hospital."

He could feel his old boss seething on the other end of the line, "The young girl handled it. She was more than willing."

"Sure, but it was supposed to be your job," Snake said.

"And your job was to not show up stoned to work," his former employer replied scathing. "Anyway, I'll be mailing your severance pay – it should come in a week or two."

"Well thanks I guess," Snake grumbled.

Annoyed, Snake pulled the phone away from his ear; he could still hear snippets of that awful nasal voice, ragging on about something. He sighed and slammed the phone down.

"I am too wrecked for this shit," he mumbled to himself as he let himself slide to the kitchen floor.

He needed an Advil and a cold shower, and if that didn't work he was going to have to get through the day by the hair of the dog.

Another sharp _ring_ sent another wave of pain through his head, and he gnashed his teeth together.

"Fuck off, please, fuck off," he snarled under his breath.

If it was Mr. Naraan again, he was going to lose it. He steadied himself against the kitchen wall again, and clumsily picked up the phone.

"What do you wan-" Snake began harshly, before being cut off by the voice of a woman.

"Mr. Sears?" the woman on the other end asked.

Realizing his error, snapped him back to reality, and he immediately felt guilty for being so rude.

"Yes, this is he," he replied, his face flushed from embarrassment. "Sorry for the rough greeting... it's been a bad morning."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that Mr. Sears. Anyway, it's Dr. Saab from Mirwais Hospital? You were here recently and had a psychiatric evaluation done by Dr. Nikolaev," she said.

"Oh, hello Dr. Saab," he answered, straightening his back as he tried to make himself more alert, "Yes that's correct."

"Alright, anyway from Dr. Nikolaev's notes, he recommended that you come in once a week, so I wanted to schedule your appointment with me. What's your schedule like?"

Furrowing his eyebrows, Snake tried to concentrate. "As far as I know I don't have anything," he replied after some length. "So, it's entirely based on your schedule."

"Alright then," the voice on the other end concluded, bright and cheerful, "does ten o'clock next Monday sound okay to you? Or would you prefer something later?"

"Do you have anything earlier in the morning?" Snake asked.

"Earlier? Now that's a first," she laughed.

"What can I say, I'm an early riser."

"Alright, Mr. Sears, I can probably squeeze you in at nine. You'll be my first appointment of the day," she said, clearly amused by the light tone of her voice.

"Great," Snake answered, drumming his fingers on the wall, eager to get off the phone.

"Wonderful, I'll see you next week Mr. Sears."

"See you," Snake said, before hanging up.

There was no way getting out of more touchy feely time, was there? He groaned as he remembered the hospital bill that he was already going to have to pay. It was probably on its way now. How much money were they going to gouge out of him? And then seeing the psychiatrist every week was going to be another bill he never asked for. At least it would only be for the month.

Snake stumbled to his couch and let his body drop onto it. If it wasn't him, and if he wasn't so hung over, he would have killed anyone who just let their dead weight collapse on it. He could hear the couch creak as he hit the cushions and sighed.

Today hadn't even begun and it was already a gong-show.


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: A lighter chapter hooray. Sorry for so much doom and gloom lately._

 _Thanks to Galya, mockingjaybrandybuck, imjane and everyone who's reviewed. Love you guys._

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

The next couple of days passed by uneventfully: he did his laundry, he went for walks, he sat and read, he listened to the radio, he cleaned. Nothing new or anything of interest came about. Despite being bored out of his skull, Snake was grateful to lose himself in these repetitive tasks where he could turn his brain off. However, he was slowly crossing off each chore he could do, and soon he would be left with nothing.

"I never thought I'd say it, but I miss that joke of a job," Snake laughed to himself as he sat down on the couch.

It was three thirty in the afternoon, and he had nothing to do. The heat was stifling, and he was down to a green military issue muscle shirt and a pair of board shorts. Tiny beads of sweat collected on his forehead, and his hair disheveled. With this heat, he really needed to get on cutting his hair. It was beginning to grow past the nape of his neck, and if he let it go for a few more months, it would reach his collarbones.

Snake reached for a small wooden box that lay on the second shelf of his coffee table. He slid the lid off and took out one of the many Cuban cigars that lay inside. Since coming to Afghanistan, he was pleased with how he was able to find them with relative ease, at least compared to the US. He loved Kennedy, but hated him for putting the trade embargo on Cuba. It had forced him into smoking Italian cigars, which were great and all, but nothing could match the dark and spicy flavour of a Cuban.

Once he had clipped the end of his cigar, he popped it into his mouth and bent down slightly to look for a lighter. The pink one Zahira had gave him sat on the bottom shelf. He shook his head grinned, bighting down slightly on the end of his cigar. He really needed to throw out the stupid thing. However, it would do for now, and he lit himself up.

Taking a drag, he closed his eyes and indulged himself in the rich flavour. His thoughts wandered that silly girl had invaded again. He should call her. It had been a few days and it wasn't like he really had anything better to do with his time. And it seemed like this was the one rare time he wanted to talk to someone.

He dug through his pile of books, and picked up his copy of _Crime and Punishment_ , flipping to where he had stored Zahira's note as a bookmark. He reread the note, studying her handwriting.

"You're something else," he said walking into the kitchen.

As he dialed her number, he could feel the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He took another drag of his cigar to calm himself down. It wasn't like he was asking her on a date. It was just a follow up.

"Um hello? You've reached Zahira Kartal? May I ask who's calling?"

"Your favourite," he answered, taking another drag.

There was a pause.

"Ishmael?"

"You sound surprised," he laughed, deep and throaty.

"Well, I...um... I guess I wasn't expecting you to call so fast?" she stammered on the other end.

He could picture he face turning pink and her playing with her hair. Nervous, like he was.

"It's not like I'm busy anymore," he said.

"Um, thanks I guess?" she replied, sounding slightly uncertain. The butterflies were back, and he hoped that he didn't say something wrong.

"Anyway I was wondering, are you busy? It doesn't matter if you are... but I was wondering if you weren't." He was being pathetic and awkward. But he couldn't help himself. He hadn't just called a girl to hang out before. And it wasn't a date. It was not a date.

"No, actually, I'm not," Zahira giggled. "Why?"

"Really?" Snake breathed, "Er, great! Do you want to," he paused, his eyes widening in fear. He hadn't thought about what he wanted to do. It would be weird to invite her over to his house, and he needed to get out lest he become a victim to cabin fever. Were there any movie theatres in the area? Girls liked movies, didn't they? At least Para-Medic did.

However, before he could think of a coherent answer, his mouth had already blurted out one for him, "Go get ice cream?"

"Ice cream?" she laughed, "Sure, I know a small little cafe we can go to."

"Great."

"So, I'll meet you at your place then?"

Snake took another puff of his cigar, "Alright. You remember how to get here? Don't make me come looking for you."

His comment elicited another giggle from Zahira, which made him smile. "I remember, mostly. But I'll see you in forty-five?"

"Sounds good, gives me time to finish off my cigar," he said, his nerves seeming to level off. This wasn't so bad.

"See you then Ish," she said before hanging up the phone.

Snake shook his head, "Ish", did she really just call him that? He needed to do something about that nickname before it became a permanent fixture. He sighed deeply and took another drag before walking to the living room. He was still leading her on. He wasn't sure if he should even bother to tell her his real name anymore. It would bring up too many questions, and it would make her a target. He knew there were still people in the world after him.

And he wasn't sure how she would take it.

It wasn't that he had intentionally lied to her. But in the circumstances, he never thought he would be in this position.

But today, he wasn't going to focus on that. Or at least he was going to try his best not to. It would be alright... he hoped.

* * *

His cigar was reaching its end as he heard a knock at his door. Rolling the ash off gently on the side of his glass ashtray, he snuffed it out, and headed for the entryway. Opening the door, he scratched his head lazily and smiled.

"Glad to see you made it," he said.

Zahira smiled right back at him. "Almost got lost at a couple of points, but I managed to make it."

It felt odd, seeing her in the doorway. He couldn't place why, but it did. There weren't any pretenses to their meeting, they were just going out to have a good time. How long had it been since had done that?

Snake nodded in response, stepping out an locking up shop. As he turned his keys, he glanced over his shoulder at Zahira. She looked softer than usual. More feminine. It was the first instance in the short time he had known her where he'd seen her in a skirt. It fell past her knees and the loose blouse she was wearing cinched at her waist. He didn't realize how small she was.

"Well, let's get going," he said, making his way down the stairs. "Show me where this cafe is."

"Don't you get down to business?" she laughed, hurriedly following him. "It's not very far, and it's in a quieter area too."

The two seemed to have gotten in an unofficial race down the stairs. Of course, he won, since his legs were longer and he had gotten a little bit of a head start. Zahira wasn't far behind though, and soon they were both on the dusty street. Looking up at him, she shot him a wicked grin, and wrapped her arm around his. Snake recoiled slightly at her touch, not expecting it and not quite sure to do with the gesture. He furrowed his brows in confusion, but didn't push her away. What was the crazy girl up to?

She began leading him down the street, humming happily to herself, "My dad, my sister and I used to visit this place when we spent the summers here when we were kids."

"That's neat. And I didn't know you had a sister?" Snake replied. He could feel his face getting warm, as she gently massaged one of his biceps. He swallowed, and tried to remain stoic about the whole thing. Was she into him? He didn't know and was probably misreading it.

He must have tensed, because she stopped what she was doing and loosened her grip on his arm. "I have a younger sister, Alya. She's the pretty one," Zahira laughed.

"What makes you say that?" Snake asked, intrigued by her answer.

"She was the one my dad wasn't obsessed with turning into the son he never had," she put bluntly. "It did come with its perks though," she concluded with a shrug.

They continued walking down twists and turns, and he felt relieved that she had been right about it being in a quieter area. Crowds made his claustrophobic, and it looked like this place was going to be a real hole in the wall.

"Tell me more about your family, I guess? What does Alya do?"

Zahira laughed, throwing her head back letting her hair bounce freely behind her, "My sister lives the cookie cutter perfect life, I guess. Married, has three munchkins, a good husband. All she's missing is the white picket fence."

Snake nodded, noting some of the bitterness in her voice as she described her sister. There was some resentment there, and he could tell. But why? There was nothing wrong with the life her sister chose to live.

"You sound almost angry about it," Snake answered, his voice low.

She sighed, and looked him in the eyes, "I'm not angry about it. It's just frustrating when you constantly get compared to her." She bit her lips, before continuing, "I mean, I love her. But, when you have prying relatives constantly asking why you haven't settled down yet, or if you're seeing someone, or even _worse_ trying to set up a match – I can't help it."

"That's understandable. You have things in your life you want to get done. It's admirable," he replied, trying to bring up her spirits.

"I guess," she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "I just could never see myself in that life. I almost settled down with someone in grad school, and then I thought to myself – Wait an minute, all of this hard work you've put in, all of this time and effort I've put into bettering me, just to be wasted? I never would have the time with children to do what I'm doing now. Going where I want, when I want. Experiencing new things."

Snake could sympathize with her, and he thought that maybe he had misjudged her being soft. She was strong in her own way. And definitely stubborn if she could hold true against her family hounding her.

"But, enough about me ranting about my silly issues. What about you? Your family? I know you said you didn't really know them, but something?"

His chest tightened and he looked away. He was hoping the dreaded question wouldn't come up.

"Well, I joined the army at fifteen," he began awkwardly, his voice coming across gruffer than normal. "And I guess those were the years my life really seemed to be heading somewhere. It was easy to get lost in the training, and I guess my mentors I had during that time became my parents." It wasn't a lie, and it wasn't the full truth.

"Fifteen? Gosh, no wonder you can be so stiff," she teased.

Snake rolled his eyes and smirked, "You also never knew me in my hay day."

"What hay day? You're talking like you're an old man," Zahira giggled.

He shook his head and chuckled, "I am an old man, little girl."

"Sure you are, what with your big beefy muscles and pretty face," she laughed squeezing his bicep again.

His face flushed, and he quickly turned his head away. He knew he was decently attractive before his eye had been shot out, but not now. She was flattering him to make him feel better. A gesture he didn't appreciate. However, he'd let the remark slide and keep on walking.

He caught a glimpse of a frown on her face. It seemed she realized what she said had put him off slightly.

Sighing, he nudged her shoulder with his, "Anyway, I joined the army, I served in Korea and did some intel missions in Vietnam and Russia. Nothing exciting. Now I'm a thirty-one year old has been."

Zahira's smile began creeping back, once he assured her he wasn't angry by continuing where they had left off.

"Ishmael, you're anything but, really. Army life is hard, at least from what I've seen on television and what little I've read. I don't blame you for needing a change," she said, her voice smooth and comforting.

Snake shrugged, "I guess."

It was strange having someone trying to understand, even though she really didn't have a clue. His peers back home understood the trials of military life and they still thought he was crazy for leaving. Why leave all the prestige and honor behind? Why subject yourself to the boredom of civilian life? If everything that had happened could have been avoided, he still would be there. But, he couldn't live with himself if stayed now.


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: Thank you so much for reading this. Seriously, it makes me so happy. Special shout outs to Galya, imjane and mockingjaybrandybuck as always. I live for your reviews. c:_

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

Zahira's childhood cafe truly was a little hole in the wall, a tiny shop on the bottom floor of an old residential building. It had tiny windows, and a bright blue door. A few chairs and tables were placed in front for some patio seating, and a bright yellow sign indicated the name of the shop and specials for that day. He couldn't read it, since it was in Pashto, but everything seemed warm and inviting. A real mom and pop business.

"This is it," Zahira said, dragging him forward, bursting with excitement.

"It's cute," Snake laughed.

His comment made her smile. "Isn't it? I think that's why my dad would always take us here."

Snake nodded in reply, he was just excited to get some ice cream. He couldn't remember the last time he had actually gone out to an ice cream parlour. It must have been years ago, either before he went off to Korea or when he had just come back. Either way, he was in his early twenties.

Holding open the door for her, Snake let Zahira walk in first. She let go of his arm, her fingers gently brushing away as she did. Her eyes caught with his for a moment, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face again. He looked down at the ground in frustration – why was he blushing? Why was she making him feel like this?

She walked forward to the glass fridge where the different flavours of ice cream were on display. Her hips moved side to side with each step she took. Snake swallowed, and shook his head before walking forward to the meet Zahira at the fridge.

"What were you thinking of getting Ishmael?" she asked, leaning up against the glass.

"Vanilla," he answered with a grin.

"Really? Vanilla?" she laughed. "God, Ish, you really need to live a little."

Snake shrugged, "I've lived more than enough. You go ahead and live for me."

She sighed loudly, and reached for his hand, pulling him closer. His initial reaction to her sudden touch was to pull away. But, she held on and soon he followed. The butterflies were flying acrobatics in his stomach and he almost felt dizzy. What was this?

"Come on, at least look at the flavours," she insisted, tapping her fingers on the glass of the fridge.

"Alright, alright," he answered with a small laugh. He would look at the others just to make her happy, but he was still getting vanilla ice cream at the end of it.

"What are you planning on getting anyway?" Snake asked.

"Hmm, probably mango. It's one of my favourites," she answered.

Snake tilted his head and furrowed his brows. "What gives? You get to pick your favourite, but I can't pick mine?"

"At least my favourite isn't the white bread of all ice cream flavours."

He pouted and mocked being hurt. "You offend me, Zahira."

She rolled her eyes, and a wry grin spread across her face. "Oh, I'm _so_ sorry, Ishmael. I had the strangest notion that you were a big boy."

She was being cheeky, wasn't she? However, he wasn't going to be one-upped by a small, slip of a girl. The competition was on, and he was going to win this round, whether she liked it or not. He slid closer to her and placed his hand on hers. She flinched slightly, not expecting his touch, and her eyes met his.

Staring directly into her eyes, his smile took on a predatory air. "I'll show you who's a big boy," he said as he triumphantly watched her become flustered.

She pressed her hands to her cheeks, and looked away. "Ishmael!" she gasped, "I, uh... what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," Snake chuckled, "I got what I wanted."

As she groaned in exasperation at his little stunt, Snake took notice of the shopkeeper eyeing them in annoyance, probably wondering why they were taking so long to order and why they were acting up in his tiny cafe. He looked down at the floor sheepishly, and shook his head. They were acting like a couple of teenagers who didn't know any better. It was almost embarrassing, but oddly enough, it was fun acting like a bunch of hooligans.

"Hey, Zahira, we might want to pick out what we're getting now."

"Right," she said with a nod. "I'm guessing we're going with both our favourites?"

"Yup, give me my white bread ice cream," Snake laughed.

"On the double," she giggled before going over and ordering their cones. She trilled away in Pashto, and he found himself envious of how effortlessly she could speak the language.

Within a few moments, they both had their ice creams. Zahira with her mango, and he with his vanilla. Much to Zahira's surprise, he paid for them both. Snake walked forward and motioned for her to follow. He wanted to walk around outside. Take in the sights and keep his feet moving. He took a bite out of his ice cream cone and smiled. It was good, light and not too sweet.

"Good place," Snake said, continuing his leisurely pace.

"Oh, um thanks I guess," she fumbled.

The two walked in an easy silence, eating their ice cream. As they began to get further from the small cafe, out of the corner of his eye, Snake noticed a little girl staring at them. He stopped in his tracks, and took a moment to look at the girl, making sure to be inconspicuous about it. After all, he didn't want to scare her. She was a ratty looking thing, with her brown hair disheveled and her long faded patchwork dress. He could see from the way she was eyeing them, that she was longing for an ice cream of her own. His gaze softened, and he felt for the little girl, remembering his own destitute childhood.

Turning to Zahira, he handed her his cone, "Um, can you hold this for a second? I'll be right back."

She took it, raising her eyebrows in confusion. "Alright?" she said, "Where are you going?"

However, he was too caught up in his own thoughts to hear her.

Running through the street, Snake went back to the cafe. The shop owner seemed surprised, and he walked up to the counter sheepishly. He couldn't speak much Pashto, so it was going to be an interesting experience.

"I'd like another ice cream," he said in English.

The shop owner nodded, and Snaked sighed in relief, happy that he was understood. As the other man got the cone, he made his way to the display case and pointed at the chocolate ice cream. Another nod, and the correct flavour was scooped into the cone. He quickly paid the man, and hastily made it out of the cafe, new ice cream in hand.

As he rushed down the street, he looked for the little girl, hoping that she didn't disappear down some back alley. Luckily, she was still there, more or less in the same place he had seen her before.

"Two ice creams?" Zahira laughed, "Jeez, Ish, aren't you greedy."

"This one isn't for me," he shrugged, before cautiously making his way towards the girl.

The little one looked startled as she noticed him approaching her, and started backing away, behind a nearby building.

"Hey, it's alright," he called out gently. He knew she probably didn't understand him, but he hoped the tone of his voice would be enough. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He bent down, and tried to make himself appear smaller. To a little thing like her, he was probably a big scary bear. She peered out from behind the corner, eyes wide. Sighing, he covered his eye patch with his free hand. That was probably making her scared too.

Now that he was fairly close to her, he said in broken Pashto, "This is for you."

She looked up at him, her big brown eyes boring into him. He held out the ice cream for her, careful not to get too close. She glanced at him, and then the ice cream in his hand, backing away slightly.

Once again, in broken Pashto, "For you. It's okay."

She stood still for a while, assessing the situation, before nodding and tentatively reaching out to accept.

Once the ice cream was in her hand, her entire face lit up, and he couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. It was small, but being able to make even a bit of a difference in a kid's life meant the world to him.

"Thank you, mister," she said, bouncing slightly.

He nodded and got back up, watching happily as she ran off.

As he walked back to Zahira, she looked at him quizzically.

"That was really, really sweet of you," she sighed, handing back his ice cream.

"Well, a kid like that deserves to be a kid once in a while."

Her gaze softened, and she touched his arm gently, "You're interesting."

His brows furrowed, and he took another bite of his ice cream. "There you go again with that. What do you mean?"

"You just don't seem like the type of person to want to reach out like that."

"So, I surprised you," Snake laughed.

"I guess you did," she agreed.

"I have a soft spot for kids. I never had much of a childhood growing up, so if I can let that little girl have a good memory looking back, then I guess I've done my job," he said.

Zahira licked her ice cream cone, and smiled contentedly.

"Give me your arm," she commanded, her voice light with laughter.

"Alright?" Snake answered, moving closer so she could wrap her arm around his.

The same butterflies came back as her arm slid around his. There was a light, high feeling in his head, and he couldn't decide if he liked it or not. The girl was leaving him confused, and he questioned if it was a good decision to call her today. However, it didn't really matter what he thought. They were there in the moment, and all he could say was that he was walking down the street with a pretty, albeit crazy, girl.


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

By the time their ice creams were done, the sun was beginning to set, and Snake was getting tired. He enjoyed Zahira's incessant chatter, and how it kept him in the present. She would always be pointing out things as they walked. Gardens on people's balconies, a bird overhead, interesting bits of architecture. Things he wouldn't have taken notice otherwise. However, his back was beginning to ache and he wanted to sit down.

"So, should I walk you home now?" Snake asked, keeping his gaze on the road ahead of them.

"Only if you want to," she replied with a shrug.

Snake paused for a moment, and shook his head. She had a habit of posing things back at him. He wished she would make it easy for him and just give him a straight "yes" or "no".

"Well, what do you want?" he laughed looking down at her.

Her face turned a soft shade of pink, making him smile. She wore her heart on her sleeves.

"Um, I actually wouldn't mind if you did. Or if you came over for some drinks," she answered quietly, staring at her feet.

"A drink would be nice, right about now, actually," Snake chuckled, "What do you have?"

"Um, I have wine. Too much wine," she giggled, covering her hand with her mouth.

"Of course," Snake said shaking his head. "If you have too much though, I'll gladly help you get rid of it."

"Great. I think I still have some left over cake, if you want some too," she replied, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

Snake laughed as they began walking to her home, "I think I've had enough junk food for today."

"Ish, live a little. Eat cake, drink, I don't know, maybe even go out of your comfort zone and kiss a girl," she teased.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at her suspiciously, his mouth upturned into an uneasy smile. He wasn't sure how much she was kidding with her "kiss a girl" comment. He could hardly keep his own head on straight, so why would he bother putting himself out there like that? Besides, what girl would want to kiss a big scary bear like himself?

"Sure, find me a girl who's not turned off by my bad eye and isn't scared of me?" he answered dryly. One that wasn't a spy for China would be even better, he thought bitterly remembering EVA.

He heard Zahira sigh in exasperation, and she shot him a look of disbelief. "Holy shit, Ishmael. You are dense," he heard her mumble to herself.

"How am I dense?" he asked, clearly unaware and slightly offended.

However, Zahira just threw her head back and laughed - a dry and annoyed laugh.

"Ishmael, I think a girl would have to pretty much throw herself naked at you for you to get a clue that someone might be interested in you."

"That is not true. I – I've had experience with women before," he stammered. Sure, EVA and he didn't actually do anything, since she had drugged him, but he had gotten to second base. That was something wasn't it?

His nerves were beginning to get the better of him as she started striking a sensitive chord. He wasn't dense. He survived infiltrating Groznyj Grad, and used his wits to make it through the Russian forest. He made it through Korea. If he was dense how would he have gotten himself through all of that?

"Really, now. I'm intrigued," she continued teasing.

Snake stopped in his tracks and looked her sternly in the eyes. "I can just go home instead if you're going to make fun of me."

Zahira nudged him with her hips and sighed, "I'm sorry. I went a little too far."

"It's okay," he answered with a shrug. "Am I really dense though?" he asked. He was actually concerned about it. He couldn't be that dense.

"It's fine, Ishmael. You're not dense," she said in a soothing tone. "You're just interesting."

"Thanks. Real helpful, Zahira."

"I try my best," she giggled giving him a thumbs up.

* * *

When the two had finally reached Zahira's home, Snake kicked off his shoes and gratefully sat down on her couch. He leaned his back into the cushions and let his head sink back. Ever since Snake Eater, his back had never been the same. He had come into too many close calls on that mission. Too many falls from blinding heights, and too many battles with a limited arsenal.

"You seem tired," Zahira called from the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine and glasses for the both of them.

"I am, my back's FUBAR," he sighed, closing his eyes.

"Oh no," she cooed, "I can get you something for it."

Snake waved his hand dismissively and said, "Don't worry about it. It'll go away on its own in a bit." It would either subside by resting, or once he started drinking and the alcohol numbed his senses.

"If you say so," she answered, only half convinced.

Bringing out the bottle of wine and glasses for the both of them, she set them down on the coffee table. Taking a seat next to Snake, she stretched her arms out in front of her and yawned. Relaxing back into the couch, she looked at him her face mired with curiosity.

"So how'd you do the number on your back?"

Snake laughed, "You really want to know?"

"Why is it scandalous?" Zahira teased, poking his shoulder.

"I don't think it's your definition of "scandalous", but sure, I guess it was."

Zahira clapped her hands excitedly. "Well now you have to tell me."

Straightening up, he scratched the back of his head, mouth twitching into a small smile, "Pour me a glass and I'll get started."

With a small giggle, Zahira grabbed the bottle and poured a very tall glass of white wine for the both of them. Snake eyed her suspiciously, was she trying to get them both drunk as skunks? He took the glass and had a small sip, before beginning his tale.

"Alright, so I was on a mission in Russia, at this point I had gone through the bush for God knows how many days to get to this Soviet base way up in the mountains, " he began watching Zahira look at him in excitement. "Anyway, it was just my luck that I got caught, and got my sorry ass hauled off to some dark dungeon cell."

He couldn't help but smirk as Zahira gasped, putting a hand to her mouth in shock, "No way. How the hell did you get out?"

"Well, that's where I'm going," Snake laughed, "So, anyway I'm in this shitty dungeon cell, and of course they have this one idiot guard watching me. Now, before I go on, you have to realize they took all of my gear. So, I'm up shit creek. I don't even have a shirt at this point. I'm down to a _fork_ and a packet of ketchup that came with the gross ration they gave me."

"A _fork_ and _ketchup_?" she snorted incredulously, almost choking on her wine.

"Yeah, a fork and ketchup," he repeated. "So, the ketchup is of course useless, nothing can be done there, but a fork," Snake grinned wickedly, "you can do a lot with a fork."

"Oh no," Zahira breathed.

"Anyway, so next time I get a ration, and believe me I didn't even have to try very hard – they're disgusting, I make myself puke, and the sounds get the guard's attention. He comes to my cell, and opens the door and steps inside. After all, what harm can a guy doubled over do?"

"Oh no, this is going to get gross isn't it," Zahira said, her voice rising in pitch as she covered her face with her hands.

"Maybe a little," Snake laughed. "Anyway, what the poor SOB doesn't know is I have my trustee fork in hand. So when he taps my shoulder, I grab his wrist to hold him in place, spin around and fork the guy in the neck."

"You what?!" Her hands hanging in the air, suspended in disbelief.

"I forked him in the neck? You know? Stab, stab?" Snake answered, held tilted in confusion.

Zahira laughed nervously, and sipped her wine, "Oh god, I should have known when I asked you tell the story there would be blood. He didn't die right?"

Snake lowered his eyes and grimaced awkwardly. Whoops, he had forgotten civvies didn't deal with the whole death and murder bit very well.

"No," he said, voice strained, "Nope. It was a scratch. Ha. Ha. Ha."

"Oh good," Zahira sighed in relief.

Snake took a large gulp of wine. Oh God, she was so naive. Of course, he killed the bastard. That was kind of what you did when you were captured, and tortured and trying not to die.

"Anyway, with him, out of the way," Snake went on carefully, "I grabbed his shitty pistol off of him, and made a break for it. Luckily, they hadn't found my radio, so once I was out I could get some intel on how to peace out of that place. But, as my luck would have it, it wasn't very long before they realized I'd broken out had a full scale alert."

"I didn't know I was having drinks with James Bond," Zahira laughed, poking him in the shoulder.

Snake groaned, at the mention of the fictional spy. He hated Bond movies. They were so unrealistic, nobody got those cool fancy gadgets and wearing a suit was impractical. How they hell were you supposed to move or fight anything? You couldn't, because a suit was too restricting, you didn't have full movement of your shoulders or anything.

"Don't even get me started on James Bond, I can't stand that guy."

"Why?" Zahira looked offended, "James Bond is amazing. What a hunk too," she sighed.

"You sound like my old commanding officer," Snake said, shaking his head, remembering Zero over the radio giving him an earful for talking against the suave Brit.

"Anyway, how'd you make your daring escape, Mr. Bond?" she purred, the sudden change in her voice catching him off guard.

He looked away, hiding the blush on his face, before continuing his story, "Well, uh, one of my colleagues, directed me to a sewer hatch that I could use to get out from under the base. It didn't really help much though since the bastards had dogs to sniff me out."

"Oh, jeez, that sounds intense," Zahira said quietly.

"It was." He paused for a moment, remembering how the adrenaline was rushing through him that day. He genuinely thought he was going to die. He took a sip, and closed his eyes, trying to push out the memories of fear. His chest tightened, and he took a deep breath. Why did he decide to tell this story?

"You okay?" Zahira said, her soft voice breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered gruffly, forcing a smile on his face. "Sorry about that, where was I."

"Sewer hatch, dogs, full scale alert," Zahira said. She fidgeted in her seat, and he spotted the look of concern in her eyes instantly. She was perceptive.

"Right," Snake sighed, "So, I'm crawling through these sewers, literally and figuratively waist deep in shit. I'm trying to outrun these damn dogs, and the soldiers tailing me with AK's and Kalashnikovs. I'm thinking to myself that eventually, there has to be a place where I can get out, or at least somewhere to lay low – but there isn't. No, instead, I reach the end of the tunnel and there's a huge drop off. The water is just going off the side of the mountain, and it's probably two hundred, maybe three hundred feet up. I can hear them getting closer, and there is nowhere for me to go."

She held her breath and nodded.

"So, inevitably, they catch up with me. Guns ready. There's probably ten or twelve of them, plus the dogs. Too many to take on with a shitty fork, since I'm out of ammo for the pistol. It's a Mexican standoff, except I don't even have a hope in hell. And then, just when I think the dogs are going to go tear my face off, this kid steps out from behind them."

"A kid? What do you mean?"

"Well, a 'kid' in my books, nineteen or twenty? Twenty-two at the most. Not important, he was their squad captain. Don't know how the kid got promoted to Major so quickly, but details, details." Snake laughed.

"He must have been a lifer like you," Zahira shrugged.

"Probably," Snake agreed, nodding his head.

"Anyway, he steps up and pulls out his revolver and makes a speech how 'it all ends here', and decides that the best way to kill me is to fuck with me by playing Russian roulette."

"That's... terrifying."

"Seeing this as my chance, I make a decision. A stupid decision, but it sure beats a bullet in the brain or being turned into Swiss cheese by the SOB's with the AK's. I know I have a one in six chance of the kid actually firing, and at that point, he'd fired two rounds so now it's a one in four chance. So, I think to myself, fuck it, at least this way you might make it out alive, and I step back –"

"No way. You did not do what I just think you just did," Zahira gasped.

Snake grinned sheepishly and nodded," Yeah, leap of faith. Free fall into the freezing cold river. Literally cold as balls, the current was strong too, and I almost drowned. Eventually, everything went black, and I woke up washed up on some riverbank further downstream, coughing up a lung."

"Holy shit," Zahira breathed, "You're fucking nuts! How did you not die from the fall?"

"Luck," Snake laughed.

"You must be the luckiest... how many near death experiences have you even had?"

His features darkened, and he drank his wine slowly, "Too many."

"Well, I'm glad you're here Ishmael," she said warmly.

"Me too, I guess. The wine's good and the company's alright," Snake answered, trying to make light of the mood.

"Only alright?" Zahira pouted, her red lips pursed together, "I'm hurt."

"Sorry, Zahira, I was under the impression you were a big girl," he said smugly.

Her eyes widened, "Did you just use my own line on me?" She threw her head back and laughed, "Oh my God, you did. What a jerk!" She slapped him playfully on the knee.

"I did, whatcha' gonna do about it?" Snake teased.

"I can do a lot about it, actually," she purred, inching closer to him, smiling coquettishly.

Snake slightly shifted away, blushing once again. That tone of voice just _did_ things to him, and he didn't know what to do with it.

"Yeah?" he answered trying to hide the fact that she was making the butterflies in his stomach flutter.

"Mmm hmm," she nodded.

"Like what?" Snake mumbled, trying to regain his composure. It wasn't working.

She pulled back, and took another sip of her wine, "I don't know, use your imagination," she said with a wink.

His face flushed even more at her remark. That was definitely something else, right? He regretted teasing her because she was clearly winning the round. It wasn't fair. Her come back wasn't even all that bad, but it was making his mind wander to some scandalous places. The wine wasn't helping.

"I, uh, I'd rather not," he fumbled helplessly.

Zahira sighed, before downing the rest of her wine in an unceremonious gulp. Snake watched in surprise as she poured another glass for herself. The girl was crazy. She was a little thing; it wouldn't be long before it started to hit her. Unless she had some super alcohol tolerance – which she might, seeing how she did mention to him that she was a delinquent when she was younger.

"Ishmael, you, are a sweetie. Seriously. I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with you," she laughed dryly.

"Neither do I?" he offered awkwardly.

She placed her palm to her forehead and closed her eyes, sighing deeply. He swore he could hear her mumble, "Oh boy," under her breath. Was he doing something wrong?

"Don't worry about it," she said soothingly. "It's nothing."

He wanted to say that it didn't seem like nothing, but held back his tongue. If he said something she might start poking at him again, and he needed to play it cool. Cool as a cucumber.

"If you say so?" he replied, scratching his head.

She giggled and kept on drinking her wine.

"So, got any more fun stories you don't mind sharing?"

"Actually, I might have a few that'll make you laugh."

 _A/N: Once again thanks to all my readers/reviewers. I'm really happy. The next few chapters are going to be really light and fluffy, which I think is needy after all the doom and gloom that was the hospital stuff. Snake is a big dummy, I'm sorry. But more of the awkward "date" continued in the next chapter!_


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

The two exchanged stories late into the night, laughing as they drank the bottle of wine down to its dregs. They had been swapping stories for hours now. The outing had gone longer than he'd expected, but he didn't mind. It had been a long time since he had been able to enjoy the company of someone else. And he was getting to know the crazy girl a little more – which made her less crazy and more, well, cute. Hearing about her family made him happy, although he felt guilty for vicariously living through her stories.

A real family.

What would have that been like, if he had that growing up? What person would he be today? He was still thankful for the life The Boss gave him. Hell, he wasn't just thankful, he was indebted to her. But, hearing the stories of living a regular life, going to high school – it made him wonder what could have been. He did the math, and they would have graduated the same year since she'd been moved up three years.

A stupid thought crossed his mind.

What if they had gone to school together? That could have been fun. He liked cars and motorcycles, and they could have smoked up a storm together. A real Bonnie and Clyde. Hell, they could have been high school sweethearts.

He shook his head, now _that_ was the wine talking.

His thoughts were interrupted by Zahira's voice, the sing-song quality amplified by how much they had been drinking, "So, you're telling me this... Major Ocelot? Just stood there and _meowed_?"

Snake nodded and chuckled, "Yup. Just stood there and went _reooow_." He mimicked the same high-pitched call and the ridiculous hand movements of the kid Major. "I wish you could've seen it."

Placing a hand to her lips Zahira tried her best to hold back her laughter. Her eyes scrunched up, and they began welling with tears. Snake grinned at the sight of her laughing so hard. It wasn't something he was used to doing to people. It felt good.

"Oh God," she said between breaths, "I don't know what's funnier. Imagining this kid meowing or seeing you imitate it."

"Hey," he grumbled in jest, "No making fun of me." He pouted for a moment before grinning again. He couldn't stop himself. Zahira nodded, unable to speak. She was hysterical.

Finally regaining her composure, Zahira wiped the tears from her eyes, and sighed happily. "I didn't realize the military had such a cast of characters."

"Zahira, we shoot people, blow up crap and have to deal with the shit end of the stick on a daily basis. I don't know what you expect," he answered.

"I guess," she said scooting closer to him. "I wish my life was that exciting."

Snake shook his head, "No you don't. Really. It's not as glamorous as I'm making it out to be. I'm just telling you the good parts."

Closing his eyes, he tried to push out the negative thoughts and images that were crawling in. He was having too much of a good time, and damn it, he wanted to enjoy not feeling like a piece of garbage for once. He didn't want to remember the bad. Not now. And he didn't want to feel guilty for being happy.

A soft warmth pressed against the side of his face, and he opened his eyes to see Zahira caressing him.

"Everything all right in there?" she asked. Even drunk she was still catching on.

Placing his hand on hers, feeling her soft skin, he sighed and gently pushed her hand away from his cheek. "I'm alright," he breathed quietly.

His eyes met hers. They were nice eyes.

His chest tightened at the butterflies came back again. He quickly looked away, forcing his gaze on a random object in the room, a small flowerpot.

What the hell was she doing to him? What was she doing? Why was he feeling this way? He cursed himself for drinking so much. It was making his brain think stupid things.

"Ishmael?" she called gently.

Forcing himself to look at her, he clenched the fabric of his shorts, trying to keep himself together.

"Yeah?"

Her lips were drawn into a thin line, and her brows furrowed, "I think you need another drink."

Snake looked at her in disbelief. They had already downed a bottle and she wanted to get another? He shook his head; the girl was really insane after all.

"You a boozer, Purple?" he laughed dryly.

She giggled, "Haven't heard you call me that in a while. And no."

"Well, I'm going to have to cut you off anyway," he said with a smirk.

"What?" she gasped, "You're not even that drunk yet!"

Shrugging, Snake smiled and laughed, "I also have at least a foot and a bit on you, and probably weigh three times as much, little thing."

Truth was he was feeling rather tipsy. He had just gotten good at hiding the fact.

"Little? Oh, I'll show you. They didn't call me the "Five Foot Fury" for nothing!" she said as she wobbled off to the kitchen.

Snake watched her go in awe. God, she was something. He shook his head and sighed. As he was turning to look away, his eyes caught how her hips moved. Back and forth, back and forth. And that skirt wasn't helping, it made her – Nope. He wasn't going there. He was not going there. No. No. No.

He closed his eyes and swallowed.

He was drunk. He was very, very drunk. He should have gone home hours ago.

When he opened his eyes, Zahira had come back with another bottle of wine and was already pouring herself another glass. It was less full than the others she had poured for herself, though. So maybe she wasn't entirely crazy.

"Are you really going to drink that?" Snake asked, raising an eyebrow.

She looked down and shook her head, "I thought it was a good idea? But now I don't know?"

Snake laughed, "You're hilarious. How drunk are you?"

"Very," she giggled. She bit her lips and smiled awkwardly.

Oh boy.

"Here, give me that. You can show me why they called you the "Five Foot Fury" another night," he said gently, reaching for her glass.

However, she lunged for it protectively, "No. Mine," she said, sticking out her tongue.

Snake rolled his eyes. "I think it's time for you to go to bed," he laughed.

He heard her mumble something to herself, but couldn't pick up what she had said.

"What you say? You're going to need to speak up. I'm old remember."

She set down her glass and sat right down next to him. There wasn't any buffer space between the two anymore. His heart was racing.

"Maybe with you," she drawled.

Oh no. Oh no. Not this. She was very, very drunk. More drunk than he had expected. After all, they were friends? Nothing more than that? He blushed deeply, just the thought of – Nope, not going there. She was drunk.

"You are drunk. It's time for you to go to bed," he repeated, his voice strained. Oh god, what did he do? If she was sober she wouldn't act like this. She wasn't even interested in him. The booze must have hit her all at once, or something because there was no possible way, ever, that she would think that.

"I'm not drunk," she laughed.

"You said a minute ago that you were 'very' drunk," he answered gruffly.

It was time to take matters into his own hands. He stood up and took the glass from her. Something that she definitely did not appreciate, given from her pout.

"Hey, not fair!" she whined.

"That's life, sweetheart," he replied, as he threw her over his shoulders in one quick motion.

She let out a small screech and immediately started kicking him. Soft thuds on his chest. He sighed. Maybe if he just put her on her bed she would get tired and sleep.

"Put me dooooooown," she protested, still kicking.

He remained silent as he focused on walking straight. The last thing he wanted was to fall over and have them both land face first into the floor. Plus he didn't even know where her room was. So he needed to be on the lookout for that.

Luckily, it wasn't very hard to find, and he soon walked in, Zahira still being a nuisance, and plopped her down on her bed. As soon as he did, he jumped as far away as possible so she wouldn't get the wrong idea. He wasn't taking advantage of a girl who couldn't think straight. And besides, he thought to himself embarrassed, he didn't want his first to be with someone who wouldn't remember it.

She fell sat up on her bed, a simple white queen, and looked at him as if he had just stabbed a puppy.

"What gives?" she said, throwing her arms down frustrated on the mattress.

"Go to bed," he answered, softly but sternly.

She shook her head. "No."

"Zahira, go to bed."

She sighed, "Fiiiiiiiine. But only on one condition."

He pressed his lips together in annoyance. Christ, she was drunk as a skunk.

"What, Zahira."

"I want you to tuck me in," she giggled.

Snake stood there for a moment dumbfounded. This was a joke right?

"You want me to what?" he asked staring at her as if she had grown a third arm.

"Tuck me in!" she replied, bouncing slightly.

"Oh boy, alright," he relented, walking towards her. At this point anything to get her to go to sleep.

She moved up and threw her legs under the covers, looking up at him expectantly. Gently, he grabbed the edge of her blanket and brought it up towards her. She was beaming like a school girl. When he had pulled the blanket up to just below her collar bones, she grabbed the neck of his shirt and tugged him down harshly. Their faces inches apart.

"Zahira, what the fuck?" he growled angrily.

"I tricked you," she giggled.

He grabbed her wrist, and yanked her away, before standing over her, eyes narrowed.

She was drunk, he repeated to himself over and over again. Don't get mad at her, don't get mad. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

"No you didn't, now go to bed," the gentleness in his voice was gone. Instead it was replaced by the firm, voice he had often used in the military when his subordinates had gotten out of line.

She seemed to have gotten at least part of the message, because when she spoke again, it was quieter, "Okay, I'm sorry. I promise I'll go to sleep if you do one thing."

Snake groaned, "What, Zahira. And there better not be any 'tricks' this time, or I won't be impressed." Please, just go the fuck to sleep, he begged.

"I want a good night kiss," she bit her lips and there was that awkward smile again.

He could feel his face going red, and his palms getting sweaty. Really? For a while he just stood there, his eyes growing wide as the nerves took over him. He was so conflicted because hell, he wanted the girl to go to sleep, but –He closed his eyes angrily. Jesus Christ, he should tell her to take a hike and go home. Why was he even thinking about this?

"If I give you a good night kiss, you'll really go to sleep?" he asked, his voice wavering.

She gazed up at him earnestly, and nodded.

He held his breath. "Okay."

Each step he took towards her was tentative. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears. His hands were shaking, and he cursed himself for it. He'd kissed a girl before, so this should be so nerve-racking. It shouldn't be causing him to feel like this.

Leaning over, he looked at her lips, and the mere thought of kissing them made him feel dizzy. Nope, nope, that would lead to trouble. Lips were off limits. He didn't need her getting any funny ideas. Closing his eyes, he bent down and tried to keep his breathing steady as he placed a small kiss on her on her forehead. The feeling of her smooth skin against his lips and his beard set a jolt through him. He pulled away quickly, unable to handle the feeling it gave him. It was too much.

"Thank you Ishy," she yawned contentedly, before continuing, "Good night."

And with that, she finally rolled over and closed her eyes. Snake stood there for a while, his mind still going haywire. "Good night," he breathed long after the fact.

He left her room, closing the door as quietly as he could before making his way to the living room. He sat down on the couch and stared at the wall. What did he just do? His head was shooting off all kinds of crazy talk. Looking at the unfinished glass of wine, Zahira left, he took it and pounded it back.

After that? He needed it.

Glancing down at his watch, he realized how late it was. "One AM?" he muttered to himself in surprise. Where did the time go?

This left him in a predicament, and he realized that maybe getting Zahira to go to sleep wasn't the best idea. If he left now, there would be no one to lock her door. She would probably be fine, and he could always call her in the morning. But it just didn't feel right leaving her alone like that.

"Oh fuck it, it's cold out, I don't want to walk home," he groaned, sprawling himself out.

And it was cold. The problem with the desert was there was nothing to retain the heat once the sun went down. All he was wearing was his stupid muscle shirt too, so he'd freeze his ass out there. If he wasn't so drunk himself, he would have just suffered the forty-five minute walk.

No, he would just sleep here.

After all, the girl would probably need someone to take care of her in the morning.

 _A/N: So, Snake is still dumb! Also for fandom blind readers, yes the meowing is in fact something that happens in MGS3. It actually happens twice. Yes, it is ridiculous. Just youtube MGS3 Ocelot Boss Fight and you can see it in all of it's ridiculous glory. For more MGS3 ridiculousness you can also Youtube Snake meets Ocelot._

 _Also thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. I love you guys so much._


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE DAY. AW YEAH. Thanks so much to everyone who has read and reviewed. I love you guys._

 _A/N: Thanks to mockingjaybrandybuck for the concrits on a bunch of my previous chapters! They've since been updated and fixed! You are awesome and I love your feedback so much :D_

 **CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE**

It was six thirty in the morning when Snake awoke. Despite having a bit of a headache, he felt fine all things considered. His back felt a little stiff, but that was to be expected, having slept on the couch. Sitting up, he reached into the air and stretched. It was one of those days that just felt good. The sun streamed through the windows, and the air was cool, and it was quiet. That's what he liked about mornings, it wasn't so blistering out that he wanted to rip off his clothes and sit in a bathtub full of ice, and the streets were devoid of people. It was the perfect time for a walk.

Getting up, he made his way to the bathroom, treading quietly, since he remembered it was just before "sleeping beauty's" bedroom. Once inside, he awkwardly began searching her cabinets for a spare toothbrush. He would replace it, of course, but he just couldn't go through the day without brushing his teeth first.

There was so much stuff in her cabinet though. Make-up, hair brush, a tiny first aid kit, some painkillers and, he blushed, feminine products. It was a natural part of life, and women were great and all being able to deal with that, but he really didn't want to think about it. Sighing, he continued to rifle through the cabinet, trying his best to not make a huge mess.

Finally, he managed to find one. Of course it was at the very back, and grimacing, of course it was pink. Did everything this girl own have to be pink? Still, it was a toothbrush, and he wouldn't have to worry about having gross morning breath. He put a generous amount of toothpaste on the brush and cleaned his teeth thoroughly, making sure to gargle and floss.

Once he was done, he stripped down and stepped in the shower. It made him a little nervous, showering at her place. But considering the state she was in last night, she probably wouldn't be up for a while. He just prayed she wasn't a light sleeper. Turning the handle for hot water, he closed his eyes and let the warmth engulf him. It was still hard for him to believe he actually slept at her place, on her couch. His face flushed again, and that he kissed her to get her to bed.

He reached for the shampoo, cringing at its very floral packaging. It was better than smelling gross though. He was stuck wearing the same change of clothes, so he wanted to smell as fresh as he could. Squeezing a dollop in his palms, he ran it through his hair, lathering thoroughly. He breathed in the scent, smiling in realization – so that's how she smelled so nice all the time. He chuckled wondering what Zahira would think about him smelling like her.

With his shower done, he quickly dried himself off, and got dressed. From there, he wandered into the kitchen. It was time to make breakfast. Rummaging through her fridge, he was relieved to find a carton of eggs. He didn't know if vegetarians ate them, and was happy to know that they did. He placed them on the counter and grabbed a pan once he had located the right drawer.

He hummed to himself tunelessly as he turned on the stove element. While the pan was heating up, he looked for some bread to make toast. He'd make them a good breakfast. The girl probably needed it too.

All of his ingredients were finally in a row. He had his eggs frying, the toast was toasting, and there was coffee being brewed. He smiled softly, he hoped she would be happy. Blushing again, he shook his head. It was going to be an interesting morning.

When he heard the sound of a door opening, his chest tightened, and he held his breath. Oh boy. It was happening. He could see her little form pass through the corner of his eye. He continued cooking, trying to remain calm. She had changed into a cute white night dress. Her hair was a curly mess, make up smudged. He felt warm looking at her like that.

"Ishmael?" she gasped, jumping at the sight of him.

"That's me," he laughed awkwardly. He kept his eyes focused on the eggs. If he looked at her he was going to fold.

"What are you-" her voice full of confusion.

"I made you breakfast?" he answered, meekly pushing a plate and fork towards her.

She looked at the plate and then at him for a while. Her eyes softening there gaze, "Oh." She fumbled with the fork, "I thought I smelled eggs."

He watched nervously as she took a few tentative bites.

"Thank you," she sighed, before continuing, "Um, Ishmael, this is super sweet of you. But, um, what happened last night?"

Making his own plate, his shoulders tensed, "I, well, you were really drunk and I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Oh God, Ish," she pleaded, "I'm so, so sorry. You really didn't need to do this."

"Hey, it's fine. How's your head doing?" he asked, trying to keep things light.

"It hurts, but I took an Advil, so hopefully it won't for very long."

He nodded, "Stomach okay?"

She laughed weakly, "Yes, Dr. Ish."

"Good," he said, taking a bite of his eggs.

She played with her food, pushing it back and forth on her plate. Something was bothering her. She sighed deeply and the glanced up at him.

"Ish?" she said quietly, "I didn't do anything dumb last night, right?"

Snake stood still, trying his best to think of an answer that wouldn't embarrass her. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Ish?" she pushed again.

"Um, nope not at all, you were just...sick," he answered pathetically. The lie was so obvious.

"I'm not dumb," she sighed loudly, "What did I do? I have a vague idea, but I need to know how bad it was," she smiled at him sheepishly.

"Well," he said, before swallowing, "you were pretty drunk and tried to get me to go to bed with you."

Her face contorted, her lips twitched and her brows furrowed. "God, I'm so, so, so sorry," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I'm so dumb. I'm so dumb!" she repeated to herself.

"Hey," Snake answered gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder, "don't beat yourself up too hard. We've all done our fair share of stupid drunk."

Zahira nodded, and held her head in her hands, "I know, but that's just so... embarrassing."

"It's not as embarrassing as the time I was so drunk I walked out of the barracks in my birthday suit and proceeded to barf on my commanding officer's shoes," he laughed, trying to cheer her up.

"You did what?" she gasped.

"There we go, not so embarrassed now, are we?" he grinned.

She giggled softly, and nodded. He could see her shoulders relax and her features finally began to soften. "Thank you," she said quietly, "Thank you so much."

"Don't think about it," he answered, waving it off. "You'd do the same for me."

They both smiled at each other. It was a good morning.

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess," she fumbled, looking down at the floor.

"Naw, you're –" he paused, realizing he almost said the word cute. "Um, you look comfy."

She tilted her head, shot him a suspicious look. Shaking her head, she laughed, "You're funny."

"So are you," he answered, laughing with her.

Breakfast went quickly after that. The eggs, toast and coffee disappeared over small talk. However, it was getting time for him to leave. He couldn't spend the whole day with her. He needed to get home.

"Hey, Zahira?" he asked, as he helped put the dishes in the sink. "You got a paper and a pen?"

"Yeah. Do you need some?" she replied.

He nodded.

"Alright, one second," she laughed, leaving the kitchen.

When she came back, she had a small notebook and pen in her hand. "As per request," she said with a smile.

"Ah, thanks," he answered, taking the pen in his hand.

It was his turn to leave a silly note. He had to stop himself from chuckling while writing it, but he figured she'd enjoy it.

 _Hey Purple,_

 _Take it easy on the booze; the next time I won't be there to make you breakfast. Anyway, you owe me two dinners now. I think it's fair all things considered. Give me a call._

Below he scribbled in his phone number. As he was signing, he cursed himself for almost writing down his real name, but luckily the letter J could easily be turned into an I.

He needed to tell her. He did. But he didn't know how. And he knew it was just going to get worse the longer he prolonged it.


	26. Chapter 26

_A/N: Thank you so much again to everyone who has read, and reviewed! Also special thanks to mockingjaybrandybuck for doing some really awesome concrit's on my previous chapters. I mentioned it in the updated Ch.25 Author's Note, but just in case you didn't see it there you can see it here! :D Also holy poop 24 followers on this story? You guys are way too kind. Seriously, thank you so, so much. It makes me really happy seeing what started out as a writing exercise to keep going during art school actually being liked I guess? AH THANK YOU SO MUCH._

 **CHAPTER TWENTY SIX**

Snake tapped his foot impatiently as he sat down in the uncomfortable chairs of the hospital's waiting room. It was Monday morning, eight forty-five AM, and he was feeling antsy. The white walls and the indistinct murmurs of doctors and other staff wandering the halls set him on edge. He was the only person waiting, so he couldn't even strike up a conversation to the pass the time. Not that he would, of course, but he would've liked to have the option. He didn't want to talk to this doctor, even though she did sound alright on the phone. He didn't even know what she would get him to talk about, since he had answered all of Dr. Nikolaev's questions. Sighing deeply, he hunched over and held his head in his hands – he was just going to end up repeating himself. A colossal waste of time and money.

Looking up, he scanned the hallway for any sign of Dr. Saab, but there was no one in sight. He glanced down at his watch, and pressed his lips together in annoyance. It was now five minutes past nine. She was late. That was the thing that bothered him about doctors. They were rarely on time. If he was late to roll call, even with the prestige under his belt, he would be in the dog house. Why weren't doctors held to the same standards? He dragged his ass out of bed to get here on time – early even. So why did he have to wait more than he had to?

"Mr. Sears?" a voice called out from the distance.

Turning his head to the left, he smiled unimpressed, the corners of his mouth twitching up. Standing up, he glanced at his watch: nine fifteen. He had been waiting a full forty-five minutes. Who he assumed to be Dr. Saab, did look flustered, her dark hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and her wire-rimmed glasses sat on her face slightly crooked.

Taking a step towards her, he waved half-heartedly. "That's me."

By this point, she had finally reached him, and he could see her up close. She was small, but then again, everyone was small when you stood at nearly six feet and five inches. Her face was round, and she had button-nose. Big brown eyes under her large glasses. At least she wasn't threatening like Dr. Nikolaev had been. Maybe he could actually relax this time around.

"I'm so sorry for being late. Traffic getting here wasn't the best," she said apologetically.

Snake tried his best to sympathize with her. He knew he shouldn't be hard on her, especially since he had found himself in the same situation before – but the fact that he would have to talk about his feelings like some loon wasn't helping him remain unbiased. "It happens," he answered with a shrug.

They walked in silence to her office. He didn't want to make small talk. After all, he would talk enough when she started probing him with questions. _Just focus on the nice fat cigar waiting for you when you're done_ , he told himself. There would be a reward at the end of this.

Her office was different from Dr. Nikolaev's. It was smaller, and instead of a chaise, there was a beige armchair in its place. Her desk was the same white as the walls. However, the same generic artwork was hung up. Did hospitals actively go out of their way to make everything as depressing as possible? On her desk, he spied a family photo, and twitched his lips into a half-smile. At least, her office was slightly more personal. She was a human outside of this job, she had a family. He just didn't know how anyone could do the job she had.

"Take a seat, make yourself comfortable," she said taking a seat behind her desk.

Snake did as he was told. His shoulders still remained tense, and he cringed as he watched her bring out the clipboard.

"Do you really have to write this shit down?" he pleaded.

Dr. Saab shot his a curious look, and smiled, setting down the clipboard on her desk. "I was just going over Dr. Nikolaev's notes," she answered.

He fidgeted in his seat, and stared at the ground. "Oh."

"I really don't want you to worry about me writing things down though. It's just so I can keep track of things. So I don't forget anything and ask you things you've already answered, or if you have questions to ask me," she continued.

Snake looked up at her and tilted his head in disbelief, "I can ask you questions?"

"Well, of course. If you need me to look up something for you, or things about medications. It's a two way street," she laughed.

"Oh. Um, alright," he answered. He felt his anxiety go down, and his shoulders began to relax.

Leaning over her desk, she rested her chin on her hands. "Anyway, how was your weekend? What did you do?"

Now Snake was very confused. She was talking to him like he was a regular person. This was weird. This was very weird. "It was good, I guess? I went out with a buddy."

"Fun," she said with a smile, "what'd you do?"

"I... went out for ice cream?" he offered, his voice wavering in confusion.

"Great."

He shifted in his seat, eyes darting across the room. There was a pause.

"So, are you going to start picking my brain or what?" his voice was dry.

Dr. Saab sighed and shook her head, picking up her clipboard again. "Sure."

His shoulders tensed again, and he braced himself for the barrage of questions. It was going to be a long appointment.

"Okay, so I just want to confirm with you everything that Dr. Nikolaev wrote down," she said, adjusting her glasses. "So, you initially were admitted because you had overdosed on the Diazepam that was prescribed to you. You accidentally took too much because of a panic attack, upon waking up from a nightmare. You're a veteran, and your childhood was... colourful."

"Sounds about right," Snake replied with a curt nod. At least he wouldn't have to repeat himself. That was a relief.

"Um, it also says here you were prescribed Quietiapine to help you go to sleep. Have you been-"

"I won't take it. I refuse," he spat.

She leaned back in her chair. She studied him with a perplexed expression, and scribbled down something on her clipboard. Probably, "difficult patient, beware of dog", he thought bitterly. But, whatever. He didn't like this.

"Are you taking anything else right now? Your Diazepam?" she pressed on.

Snake shook his head, "No. I'm not putting another drug in my body unless it's Advil."

More scribbles on her clipboard.

She sighed and rubbed her temples, "Well, that does put a hitch in a few of my plans. I really think that the Quietiapine would have helped though. It's not the same class of drug as the Diazepam, so they effects would be different. It's an anti-psychotic. So it would help with the-"

Snake groaned in exasperation, "Fuck man, I screw up once and now I'm psychotic? Really?"

"No, no. You're misunderstanding me. That's not what I'm saying at all," she sighed again, trying to calm him down.

"Alright, enlighten me then," he grumbled, crossing his arms defensively.

"Okay, now if you let me finish before you interrupt me. I know you're skeptical of all of this but I'm here to help," she said, looking at him in earnest.

Snake nodded, unconvinced.

"Quietiapine is an anti-psychotic, meaning that it'll help if you have any feelings of paranoia. Any anxiety? It helps with that. And most importantly, it will help you sleep. It will stop the night terrors, so you don't end up missing work because you were stuck in the theatre of war."

"Cool. They sold me the same bullshit on Diazepam, Doc." He answered, his eyes narrowing.

Another exasperated sigh, "If you would let me finish, I was about to tell you how they differ. Diazepam is a tranquilizer. Quietiapine is different because you take it well before you feel an attack coming on. It's pre-emptive. You take it daily, so it's actively treating you, and fixing your brain chemistry. Diazepam is a short-term cure. You take it when your body is already a mess, and it relaxes you."

Snake continued to stare her down unconvinced. "I'm not taking any drugs. And Dr. Nikolaev told me it would "knock me right out", how is it not a tranquilizer then?"

"Yes, it has sedative effects, but it does more for you than the Diazepam. Diazepam is trying to put out the fire, where this is making sure to turn off the stove before the fire can start."

"Can I try doing this without medication first?" he pleaded. "I just really don't feel comfortable about taking meds."

"You're not really giving me a choice," she laughed.

That made Snake laugh. So, he did have some power in this after all.

"Anyway, let's get off this topic, since it's going nowhere. Dr. Nikolaev wrote here that you didn't remember your nightmare. Do you often wake up not remembering them?"

Snake fidgeted again, and sighed. He supposed he couldn't keep up the lie forever, as much as he didn't want to talk about it. After all, he was stuck seeing her for the rest of the month. She would force it out of him sooner or later.

"Actually I lied about that. I didn't want to talk about it," he admitted, staring at his hands.

He was expecting her to be angry with him, but instead she just scribbled in her clipboard, and then asked him, "Why didn't you want to talk about it?"

"Well, I," he fumbled, not expecting her to be so calm with the fact he lied on his psych evaluation, "I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to remember."

"Why do you think not talking about it will help you not remember?"

"Is this going to be circular talk now?" Snake laughed bitterly, "Out of sight, out of mind. Isn't it obvious?"

"But it's not out of mind is it?"

Snake gritted his teeth. The lady had a point, and he hated being called out on his shit.

"Sure it is," he said, forcing a grin on his face.

"Then, why are you having nightmares?" she said, matching his grin with a smirk of her own.

"You fight a war, you deal with the things I've had, and tell me that it doesn't haunt you."

"So, it's not out of mind," she insisted again.

He sat there quietly, trying to think of some smart remark to get her to shut up. But couldn't. This was her arena. He was never good at playing mind games or using words to defend himself. That's what guns were for.

"The sooner you realize that talking about what happened, the easier it's going to be to forget."

"How?" he groaned, "I talk about it and it all comes up again. I have to relive it. I have to see it."

"You see it anyway in your nightmares," she answered, "At least if you talk about it, you can process it, see it with fresh eyes."

"Right," Snake laughed.

"What did you dream?" she said, continuing to push.

For someone who looked so dorky, she was tough. Snake wanted nothing more than to get out of this woman's office. She didn't leave him alone like Zahira did when he didn't want to talk. He sat in the chair silent. He didn't want to talk.

"Mr. Sears, you sitting there quietly is wasting my time and yours," she said sternly, eyes shooting daggers at him.

He sighed loudly, "Fuck. I dreamed of being electrocuted by some crazy Russian commander and having my eye shot out. Then I dreamed of when I was flown near the nuclear testing site at Bikini Atoll to see how the radiation would affect soldiers in my twenties. And then I-"

His tough macho act died as he began to talk about The Boss. The images flooded his mind, and he couldn't speak. He closed his eyes in pain. His chest started to tighten again and his breathing started getting shaky. That's what he wanted to forget. The guilt swallowed him, and all he could do was shake his head.

"I..." was all he could choke out.

"It's okay, this is a safe place. You can say it. What was it?" the voice of Dr. Saab chimed.

He glanced up at her, his brows furrowed, and he shook his head. "I did something unforgiveable."

She nodded, silently, seeming to realize this was the most that was going to come out of him.

"Nothing in this world is unforgiveable," she said softly.

"She's dead; I can't say I'm sorry now."

"But you can learn to forgive yourself."

Snake shook his head, his voice was flat."I'll never be able to. You don't understand what I've done."

"I want you to change that sentence," Dr. Saab, said her voice calm but authoritative.

"You want me to what?"

"Instead of, never, I want you to change it to: 'I might not be able to right now'. Because, Mr. Sears, whatever it is you've done, you'll work past it. It might take years, but one day, you will."

Snake shook his head again and sighed, "Whatever you want, Doc."

Dr. Saab stood up from her desk, and walked in front of him. Crouching down to his eye-level, sitting down. Tentatively, she slowly reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Sears, you need to stop treating yourself like you're a lost cause."

He looked directly into her eyes.

"That's because I'm a monster."


	27. Chapter 27

_A/N: Once again thank you to all my readers and reviewers! I love you guys. Seriously. Thank you. Heads up for this chapter, it gets kind of heavy again. I'M SORRY GUYS. I'M SORRY. I also hope it comes across okay ;_; Writing these scenes always worries me._

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

The rest of the session went along the lines of Dr. Saab trying to convince him that he was not, in fact, a monster. Eventually, he just agreed with her so she would let him leave. However, she had given him "homework" for the next appointment. It was a stupid assignment, but he was stuck with it. He had to come up with a list of five things he liked about himself, and five things he wanted to improve.

The problem was everything he had liked about himself had been taken away in that last cursed mission. How could he call himself brave after that? How could he be loyal, if he killed the woman who had cared for him, raised him when he was nothing? Some could argue he was selfless in sacrificing her life in exchange for preventing nuclear war, but he wasn't. He didn't have a choice. He had to. It was to save his own ass from being court-martialled for failing the Virtuous Mission. At the end of the day, he was scum, and the entire time his hand trembled until he pulled the trigger. He couldn't even keep his hand steady. He couldn't even give her that simple justice before he ended her life.

His whole body felt heavy as he pried the door open to his dimly lit apartment. He didn't bother turning on the lights, and immediately went to the kitchen to grab another bottle whiskey. He just wanted to forget. That's all he wanted. If the doctors could give him a drug to wipe his memories, and just let him start over he would have taken it in a heart-beat. He wanted to forget The Boss' kindness. He didn't deserve it.

Bringing the bottle with him into the living room, he set it on the coffee table before pulling out the cigar that had been in his pocket the whole morning. He had already clipped the end of it so it ready to smoke. Snake grabbed Zahira's lighter and sighed. At least she wasn't here to see him like this. Defeated and broken. Puffing on his cigar, he prayed that it would bring him some peace. But of course it didn't. Instead, he just thought about how The Boss used to chastise him for smoking.

Snake unscrewed the cap of the bottle and drank liberally. The apple didn't fall far from the tree – he would end up a drunk just like his father. He didn't care anymore. The alcohol burned and he savoured it. Talking didn't help. All he could think about was her now. If she could see him now, she would be disappointed. All that work she put in, and here he was, barely holding it together.

The phone rang.

He sat there and let it ring.

Five minutes later the phone rang again.

This time he got up to answer it. Whoever was trying to call him was obviously very adamant on getting through.

"Hello," he said flatly into the receiver. He could barely keep his eyes open.

"Ishmael?" that peppy, sing-song voice resounded in his ear. He took a drag of his cigar, as his chest grew tight. He felt guilty for being in such a sorry state.

"Yup, that's me," he answered, trying his best to laugh.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Did I call at a bad time?"

He closed his eyes. "No, no. Of course not. Just a little bummed out today." The real answer was: _yes you called at a bad time. I'm in the middle of drinking myself to death or smoking into the oblivion. Please call again._

"Aww no. That sucks," she said, her voice still ever chipper. "Want me to bring you some dinner to cheer you up?"

He shook his head, and took another drag. "No, no. It's fine really. I was joking about the two dinners thing."

"Are you sure? You just sound like the life's been sucked out of you, Ish." The concern in her voice was killing him. Why did she have to be a sweetheart?

Snake sighed, and finally relented, "If you want to bring me dinner, it's fine." He didn't want to put up a fight today. "I'm sorry, today has just been really hard."His voice had cracked slightly as he said those words, and he hated himself for it. Now she really was going to worry.

"We can talk about it when I come over? Or not. We don't have to talk either," she said desperately trying to make him feel better.

"I..." he answered, "we'll figure it out when you get here. Just don't worry about me please. I swear I'm fine."

"Ish, it's okay to have someone worry about you," she laughed softly. "It's not a bad thing. It means people care and that they're thinking about you."

"Thank you." It was the only reply he could muster.

"See you at five o'clock?"

"Yeah, see you then," he answered weakly, "And, Zahira... thank you."

Snake hung up the phone and slumped to the ground. He had until five to get his shit together. Picking himself off the ground, he put the whiskey back in its cabinet. Before closing the cabinet door, he contemplated taking another swig, but thought better of it. He wasn't going to be wasted for when Zahira got there. She didn't deserve that.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he took off his eye-patch and leaned over the sink. He glared at himself in the mirror. He hated that ugly face staring back at him.

"Get your shit together," he said through gritted teeth.

He turned on the tap, letting it run until it was ice cold. He splashed the water on his face, and hissed.

* * *

It wasn't long before his watch read five PM and he heard a knock at his door. He ran his fingers through his hair, and hoped that he had managed to make himself presentable looking enough. Approaching the door, he could feel his heart racing again. What would she do if she realized how torn up he was? His hand lingered on the doorknob, and he took a deep breath before finally opening it.

There was Zahira, standing on the other side. He scanned her appearance for a while, studying her face. Those gentle eyes. Nice eyes.

"Hey Ish," she said smiling. "Mind if I come in?"

Her comment quickly brought him down to Earth. "Um, yeah, sorry about that," he answered, stumbling on his words. Moving out of the way, he realized he had forgotten to turn on any of the lights in his house. He rubbed his lips with his hands, and prayed she wouldn't notice before he could fix that.

"Dark in here," she laughed, shuffling out of her shoes.

Damn it.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," he replied, his face turning pink in embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it. Bad day, I get it. Sometimes you need to turn off all the lights and shut all the blinds."

He nodded, and gave her a small smile, before flipping the light switch. He heard Zahira sigh happily when the lights flickered on. "Now that's better."

"Ish," she said looking up at him, those murky green eyes framed by those long lashes boring into him.

"Hmm?" he mumbled absently.

"Where's your kitchen? I just want to warm up the food since it got a little cold on the way," she answered, playing with hair.

"Oh, um, follow me," he said, leading her down the hall into the kitchen.

"I made us mac 'n cheese," she laughed.

"Home made?"

"Well, duh. You think I'm going feed you the junk from the box?"

Snake shrugged. He really wasn't expecting her to come over today, never mind make him dinner. But he felt honoured.

"I don't know. It was so sudden I didn't expect you to go all out," he answered, his face turning a twinge of pink again.

Zahira laughed as she carefully pulled a blue ceramic dish out of her messenger bag. The top had been wrapped in tinfoil, in an attempt to keep the heat in. Placing the dish on the counter, she marched over to the oven and turned the heat on.

"I like cooking. It's one of the few house-wife-y things I don't mind."

Snake rolled his eyes and smirked. "You a house-wife? Then I'm a pacifist."

Zahira narrowed her eyes and made a b-line towards him. "Oh, you stop that, you big jerk," she giggled, slapping his shoulder playfully.

He grinned at her. His body felt light again. It was as if she had put a spell on him. Her happiness just radiated throughout the room. The uneasy feelings were still there, but they weren't pushing up against his skull like they had been earlier.

She pursed her lips, and shot him a curious look. Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

"You seem to be doing better," she chuckled, placing the mac 'n cheese in the oven.

"I..." he fumbled. "What makes you say that?"

"You're grinning at me like a fool," she giggled, hiding her mouth with her hands.

His face flushed again, and he stared at the floor. Damn that silly girl.

"Can't help it. You're a fool yourself," he answered.

Not knowing what to say back, Zahira stuck out her tongue. He shook his head and laughed. It felt good. He needed to laugh today.

"So, when's it going to be ready?"

Zahira glanced at him smugly, leaning against the countertop. "My, you're impatient."

"Haven't eaten much today, and it smells good," he answered, shrugging.

"Ishmael, you need to take care of yourself."

Pressing his lips together, Snake shook his head. "I do take care of myself."

"Uh-huh. Okay," Zahira continued to tease. "Anyway, it's been ten minutes. It should be good now."

Before she had to ask, Snake rummaged through one of the drawers and tossed her a pair of oven mitts. She caught them easily, and slipped them on. Once she placed the dish on the top of the stove, she took off a mitt, and cautiously peel back some of the tin foil covering. Snake wandered behind her, glancing over her shoulder taking a sneak peak at the meal.

"Looks good," he said with a smile.

And it did look good. It had generous amounts of cheese, and he could see she added breadcrumbs to her recipe. It was cooked until golden, and smelled heavenly. Good old comfort food through and through.

"Oh, thank you," she answered quietly, turning her head to look at him. Her cheeks had turned a little pink. "Anyway, where do you want to eat? Living room, dinner table, somewhere els-"

"Dinner table. Sorry. Stickler for keeping my house clean," he replied, cutting her off.

Although, his house had seen better days. Ever since he had that attack, his mood had been up and down. Some days he would have the energy to tidy absolutely everything, he could spend hours rearranging things until they were perfect. Other days, he would feel so drained he'd just skate by. On those days, he would lie on his couch and watch his ashtray fill up.

"Right-o," Zahira chuckled.

The two sat down at the table, a shabby little thing, but it did its job well enough. They took their first bites, commented on how it tasted, and decided it was good. However, good as it was, Snake felt the creeping anxiety come back, hitting him in the chest. Always the chest. Maybe it was because he could see Zahira was trying to formulate how to ask him what happened earlier on. He knew that look. Her eyes focused on her fork and her brows scrunched together, and she was biting her bottom lip. He kept eating, and tried to push out the negative thoughts. All he needed to concentrate on the present.

"So, about earlier," Zahira finally said, her voice low. She was being cautious; it was the same tone she had used after their argument in the hospital. "What happened?"

She paused for a moment before continuing on, "You don't have to tell me everything. But you had me worried on the phone... You didn't sound like you."

Snake sighed and closed his eyes. There was no avoiding it since he had shown her that moment of weakness. Again he was stuck fessing up something he didn't want to talk about.

"Psych appointment," he answered curtly.

"Oh." She stared at him with wide eyes. Her mouth curved into a frown. "How'd it go?"

Snake took another bite of his food before giving her an answer. Buying time to think of something without going into it.

"It was good, "he said, his eyes darting to the corner of the room. "Well, as good as it could have gone. It just brought up a lot of old shit."

"Oh no," she breathed. She leaned forward in her chair and reached out to touch him, but he scooted his seat back. He didn't want her to. She'd done enough already.

Zahira seemed hurt by how he backed away from her, and he immediately felt guilty. He took another bite of the mac 'n cheese and kicked himself mentally. Why'd he have to be such an asshole?

"Do you want to talk about it?" she said quietly.

"Not really."

He pushed his food around his plate, trying his best to distract himself. He needed to hold the current at bay.

"She gave me homework though," he said trying to keep himself in the present. Trying to block it out.

"Homework, that's weird. What kind of homework?"

"I have to find five things I like about myself," his voice was getting quieter.

His breathing started getting choppy. The scene in the psych office repeated itself. He continued to play with his food in a desperate attempt to distract himself. If he let the whole conversation go on in his head, it was going to lead to one place. But try as he might, the thoughts were coming on in full force now. He had screwed himself over, and now Zahira would see him break. He shouldn't have relented and let her come over. He was stupid to think he was strong enough to manage if she started asking him about this morning. He should have let the phone ring.

Image after image of that last battle with The Boss played in his head like a movie. Everything was in slow motion. Each blow, each strike, every word, the last moments between them. His shaking hands. Not even having a moment to grieve because he only had a few minutes to get out before the whole valley blew sky-high.

 _"Jack, or should I say, Snake," her voice still strong, even in her last breaths, "you're a wonderful man."_

 _His lips were trembling as she spoke._

 _"Kill me. Kill me now. Do it."_

Snake stared vacantly. He wasn't in his body anymore. He was watching himself sit at the dinner table, while Zahira grew increasingly worried.

"Ishmael? Are you okay?" When she spoke, her voice sounded far away. Almost as if it were an echo.

"I'm fine," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

 _He was back in that field of flowers, standing over The Boss. She had no sorrow, no joy, no regrets. She had given him everything. All that was left was to take was her life. One must die and the other must live. That is how the mission would end. That is how the game would be played._

 _All it took was one shot._

"You don't look fine, Ishmael," Zahira called out.

She was standing beside him now; her eyes were wide with concern. Her hands were reaching towards him, and she cupped his face. The feeling of her soft skin, made him flinch. He blinked. The room around him felt real again. Solid. Instinctively, his hands reached up to hers. She was real. She was here.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "You should go. I'm really, not myself right now." He needed a drink. He needed a drink right now.

She shook her head, "No, I shouldn't. I'm not leaving you alone after that."

"Zahira, I'm fine," he said, his voice getting louder. "Really."

"Ishmael, enough with this macho-man bullshit. Let me be here for you. Let me help you," she pleaded.

Coming to his senses, he pushed her hands away, and crossed his arms. "Zahira, a nice girl like you shouldn't be running around with an asshole like me."

Zahira screamed into her hands.

"Why are you so self-defeating all the time? You're not an asshole."

Snake looked down at the kitchen floor. "You even said it yourself."

"Ishmael, I was angry with you, and I was joking. Come on, you know that," her voice was getting higher as she desperately tried to reason with him. "Besides, would an asshole take care of me when I was drunk? Would an asshole have bought an ice cream for a little girl? Would an asshole do any of that? What has you so torn up?"

Why wasn't she going away? Deflecting wasn't helping. Why was she always so insistent with him? Why did she always have to go the extra mile? Why did she make him feel so happy in some moments but like shit in the next? Why? Why was he so weak that he couldn't hold his shit together in front of her?

His arms dropped to his sides, and he stared at her, his eyes full of guilt. Why did he have to be so mean to her?

"Ish," she breathed quietly, "Are you crying?"

It took him a moment to register the hot tears streaming down his face. Fuck, he was pathetic. A grown ass man crying in front of a woman.

"No," he choked out.

She bent down in front of him and took his hands in hers. Tugging gently, she coaxed him to stand up. "Come on, let's go sit down. Come on."

Snake let her lead him into the living room; his mind trapped in that repeating loop of memory. They sat down on the couch, and Zahira clutched his right hand in hers.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. He wasn't sure if he was saying it to Zahira, The Boss, or to himself.

"It's okay. You've had a bad day. Everyone has bad days," she cooed.

"I shouldn't feel like this. It's not what she would have wanted," he said despondently. "I'm not supposed to feel this way. I'm soldier, for Christ sakes."

"Ish, I don't know who this person is. She's obviously very important to you. But you're allowed to be sad. You're allowed to cry." her voice was wavering. He was killing her. He was making her upset too.

He felt her arms wrap around him, and he lost all sense of himself. He pulled her close, buried his head into the crook of her neck, and cried. She rubbed his back as it all came pouring out of him.

"You're okay. You're okay. I'm here."

 _A/N: Italicized flashbacks for easier reading! :D_


	28. Chapter 28

_A/N: Thank you everyone who's read an reviewed! :D Slightly slower on the update this time around because of getting a new job, and I really wanted this chapter to come out right. I had to re-write it a few times, so hopefully it works XD_

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

When his tears had finally subsided and he managed to catch his breath, Snake lifted his head from Zahira's shoulders and pulled himself away. Feeling him move, Zahira's arms loosened their grip around his shoulders, letting him go.

"Ishmael?" He heard her say softly.

His hands rested in his lap, palms up. Staring at them, his lips drew into a thin line. How could he have let himself break down in front of her? He felt embarrassed for once again allowing her to see a moment of weakness. Closing his eyes, he let out a long sigh. This was his fault.

"Ish?" Zahira repeated, touching his knee gently.

At the sound of her voice, he opened his eyes again. "I'm alright," he answered gruffly, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

He wouldn't look at her. Seeing the concern in her eyes would make him do something stupid. The last thing he wanted was to take the anger he felt for himself out on her.

"It's okay," she said, her hand still resting on his knee, "I'm glad you're okay now, though?"

Snake sighed and nodded. Glancing down, he sighed again. Why did she have to touch him? He didn't want to be touched right now.

"You should go home," he mumbled, "I'm really sorry and I'll make it up-"

Zahira leaned in, her eyes meeting with his. "Stop that. It's fine," her voice was gentle, but firm. "I'll go reheat our food. You stay here."

Before he could protest, she had already gotten up and made her way to the kitchen. Snake leaned his head back into the couch cushions and sighed again. She was a stubborn one. Reluctantly, he decided that there wasn't going to be a point in arguing with her – she would do her own thing anyway. The way she constantly helped him at the hospital was proof of that.

Lumbering to the bathroom, Snake thought about calling out to Zahira, but didn't. He was a grown man. He wasn't obligated to her. It was his home. He needed to put his walls up. She had gotten too close again. With the door shut behind him, he cast off his eye-patch and washed his face, the water ice cold. Once the initial shock of the freezing water hitting his skin subsided, it felt refreshing. If only he could lock himself in the bathroom for the rest of the night. He could run a cold bath and drink himself to sleep. Sounded like a stellar way to end the crapshoot of a day.

However, his thoughts were interrupted by Zahira calling for him.

Breathing in deeply, he turned off the tap and took one last look at himself in the mirror. He looked almost back to normal. His face was still a little red, but that would go away as the night went on. Slipping on his eye-patch once more, he stepped outside. He could see the top of Zahira's head from behind the sofa.

"Sorry," he answered walking into the living room, "wanted to clean up a bit."

"No worries."

His gaze drifted down onto the coffee table, and his mouth curved downward into a disapproving frown. "Zahira, I really don't want to eat in living room. I know you're trying to make sure I'm comfortable and all, but it's going to make a mess."

"Ish, if there's any mess, or crumbs, or whatever, I'll clean it up after. Just relax and eat with me," she answered.

Sitting down next to her, Snake smiled uncomfortably. He didn't like mess and the mac n' cheese had breadcrumbs in the recipe. It was going to get all over his floor and couch. However, it did smell delicious, and she was putting in the effort to try and cheer him up.

"Alright, but I'll be inspecting it afterwards," Snake grumbled.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure it's up to your military standards," she giggled. "Now come on, don't be such a mope and eat."

Snake grunted and sat down beside her, the couch creaking under his weight. He needed to stop sleeping on the damn thing so often. Without looking at her, he reached for his cigar box and quickly pulled one out.

"How many of those things do you smoke a day, Ish?"

"How many packs of cigarettes do you go through?" he grumbled between puffs as he lit his cigar.

Zahira's laugh was dry. "Oh come on, a pack usually lasts me at least a few days."

Snake didn't respond, instead focusing on his smoke and eating the food in front of him as quickly as possible.

"When did you start smoking those anyway?" she continued, trying to fill the silence in the room.

He could tell by the sound of her voice she was starting to feel uncomfortable. Like she was trying to appease him in some way. Sighing, he could feel the anger burning in his chest again. It was misplaced anger. He shouldn't be mad at her for wanting to help.

"I dunno, fifteen? Sixteen?" he responded after taking a bite of the mac n' cheese. "When you start smoking your cancer sticks?"

"I was twelve," she said shrugging.

 _That_ made Snake look over at her. He knew she told him she was a delinquent, but twelve was still young to pick up the habit. Normally, he wasn't one to judge another's choices, but with her it felt a little different. He was getting soft. Getting attached. Getting weak.

"You're looking at me like I'm from the moon, Ish."

Snake took a long drag, holding the smoke in his mouth before releasing it into the air. "Young, is all."

She smiled and shook her head, "Oh yes, because you were so much older than I was when you started. With cigars too. How does a sixteen year old afford that?"

"Well, I didn't really have anything else I wanted to spend my money on. And I was pretty good at stealing 'em from my CO's," he answered, turning his gaze back to his plate. "Zahira, I don't want to talk right now. Can you just tell me a story, talk about yourself? Distract me?"

He glanced back up at her and saw her eyes widen at the bluntness of his request. Cringing, he realized he'd been a little too honest with her. Another slip up.

"Sure," she said, her voice came out thin. He was making her nervous. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything."

Zahira closed her eyes and sighed. "Alright. Anything," she mumbled.

"I guess I could tell you about how I started smoking. It's kind of funny." She looked at him for some reassurance. However, Snake kept his eyes locked on the wall in front of him, puffing away. His thoughts were getting stupider by the minute. Loud, angry thoughts. Ones that belonged on the battlefield and not at home in the presence of a lady.

She continued awkwardly about how she was three years younger than everyone in her class, kids were rough on her because of it – all things he already knew. He asked her if he remembered her mentioning her childhood friends, slipping in how this was how she met them. She forced out a laugh when he didn't answer. She droned on, _umm-ing_ and _ahh-ing_ , as he drifted off. He was half-way through his cigar when all of the sudden she stopped talking altogether.

"Ishmael, seriously?" her tone was sharp.

"What?"

"You're not even pretending to listen to me right now."

Clenching his jaw, he turned to look at her, his eyes downcast. "I was listening. I just..." he sighed, "I have a lot on my mind right now." He sheepishly placed his cigar on the edge of the ashtray sitting on the coffee table. He could finish it later.

She pressed her lips together, clearly unimpressed by his response. But something made her gaze soften. "Oh, Ish," she sighed, "come on, let's turn on some music. You need to do something to get out of your head."

"You could pour me a drink," he mumbled under his breath.

He felt her hands cupping his face again. Soft and smooth. Warm.

"I heard that," she said firmly looking into his eyes. "And that's the last thing you should be doing right now."

He closed his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. He could hear her breathing quicken as she let out a small gasp of surprise. There were other ways to forget. He could use her like EVA used him. He hadn't ever done something like that before, but soldiers had done it all the time back in Korea. A woman's body was a good place to forget your troubles. But upon opening his eyes and looking into hers, he immediately felt ashamed for letting such a horrible thought enter his mind. He couldn't do that to those gentle eyes.

And didn't he leave the military in the first place because he didn't want to be manipulated? How could he consider doing that to someone else? Someone who was trying to help him?

"There's a lot of things I shouldn't be doing right now," Snake said quietly, his forehead still pressed against hers. _Being here with you is one of them_. Her touch was having more of an effect on him sober than when he was drunk.

"Like what, Ish?"

He sighed, and shook his head. This girl had no clue. She didn't. She was trying to understand, but in the end, she never would be able to. He was stringing her along, lying to her. He didn't want to manipulate her but he already was. And she was making him... no, he wasn't falling for her. Or maybe he was; but he had felt so many strong emotions today that his thoughts were getting jumbled.

"I should get to sleep, Zahira," he mumbled, letting his hand rest on the small of her back.

She didn't press for answer to her question. Something Snake was eternally grateful for.

Her hands dropped to his shoulders, a tinge of pink spread across her cheeks. "Yeah, I guess I should get going."

"I'll walk you home?"

She shook her head. "No, you don't have to do that. You've had a long day."

"The walk might be good for me," he insisted. The idea of her walking home alone at night bothered him.

"No, what you need is a good night sleep."

Snake sighed, "I'm not going to be able to sleep if I don't know you've gotten home in one piece." Especially with how hot and cold he'd been with her today.

"I'll be fine," she laughed. "I'm a tough girl."

"You really won't just give me this one, will you?"

"Nope."

"Can you at least phone me when you get home?"

Shifting off the couch, Zahira began gathering her things. "I'll give you a call if it makes you feel better, Ish."

Once she had packed up, Snake escorted her to the front door. The light from the moon streamed in from the open doorway, casting on Zahira. He swallowed, feeling his heart race. She was wearing a pair of comfy over-alls and a plain white t-shirt, but even so, something about the light made her look... pretty. Except that wasn't the right word. He closed his eyes for a moment, and inhaled the night air. He was at a loss.

As she began to walk off, Snake's nerves got the better of him and he took a couple of steps after her.

"Hey, Zahira?" he called out.

At this point she was on the top of the stairs. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for being such an asshole."

"You're not an asshole, Ish," she laughed, but he could still hear a tinge of annoyance in her voice.

"Well, I..." he fumbled, "I'm just sorry I was all over the place today, I guess."

"It's okay. We all have bad days. And if I think you're being a jerk, you know I'll tell you."

"The food was really good. I'm sorry I couldn't –"

"Listen you silly goose," she chuckled from her place on the stairs, "I'm not mad at you. You can stop apologizing to me. You had a rough day, and I know you feel bad about the whole thing. So, don't beat yourself up about it.

I'll call you when I get home. Just rest up, Ish, and take care of yourself."

With that, she waved him good-bye and disappeared into the night, leaving Snake hanging in the doorway. He slunk back into his apartment and turned the lights off. Turning to the kitchen, he pulled out a chair from the dining table and sat by the phone. He slipped off his eye-patch and ran his hands through his hair.

"What are you getting yourself into, John?" he sighed quietly to himself. "You know you can't play house with this girl."


	29. Chapter 29

_A/N: Okay! Another Chapter update! Thank you so much again to everyone who has read and reviewed. It honestly means the world to me. I'll be out of town for a bit this week for training for my new job! But I wanted to give you something to read while I'm gone. I hope this chapter is okay. Things are definitely going to pick up in the next few chapters, though :D I'm still surprised with how far I've come in this fic._

 _Anyway, here's to you guys. Thank you so much for encouraging me and keeping me going. You're all diamonds~_

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

Zahira did phone him when she got home. Snake was relieved, and they conversed for all of five minutes before hanging up and stumbling off to bed. In those five minutes, Zahira had convinced him into meeting up with her again tomorrow to talk business. She seemed to put extra emphasis on how dry it was going to be – paperwork, filling out permit applications, crunching numbers. Snake, not wanting to let on that he knew exactly what she was doing agreed. It was a tactic to get him out of the house and to check on him. He knew it because Zero, his old commanding officer had done something similar once he had come back from Korea, and again after Snake Eater. They would get you to meet up under business, get you to do mundane things and carefully observed how you acted –slipping in the innocuous questions. Zahira knew full well he didn't need to know about the numbers, or the paperwork. That was her gig. He was going to be her field guide. His job was to make sure she got from point A, to point B safely and that she didn't starve or get lost out in the desert. If she needed supplies, it was her job to budget for it. He was just the delivery boy.

But, he supposed the distraction of paperwork would help. It would at least give him something to complain about. And, it would be present itself as an opportunity to get some damage control in order. After his display, he needed to re-establish the stoic, taciturn persona he had been putting out to the world. More importantly, he really did think the business talk was needed to set a boundary between them. It would set up an employer/employee relationship between them – and he wasn't going to lust after his boss. Or whatever he was starting to feel each time he saw her. You didn't mix feelings and business. That was a painful lesson he learned from EVA.

Stripping off the rest of his clothing, Snake crashed down onto his bed, roughly pulling the covers over his body. EVA, how he wished he could get rid of her from his mind too. He was such an idiot for falling for her. Zero's words still rang in his head, _"She's using you as much as you're using her_." Except in the end, he fell hook, line and sinker. Mistaking all of those charms, she had probably learned since childhood in a Soviet sleeper agent camp, for love. How many men had she seduced by the time they met? He was so naive then. Probably one of her easier targets.

He should have known better the moment she unzipped her jumpsuit, revealing that glorious rack of hers. And to an extent he did, but he was a man and he liked what he saw. He kept telling himself that he wouldn't get attached. After all, he had been trained by The Boss. He was above cheap tactics like seduction.

Except he really wasn't.

But could anyone blame him?

Here was this beautiful blonde bombshell, fighting alongside him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear after his adrenaline was still pumping through his veins after a firefight. Feeding his ego, that a more experience woman was taking interest in a young buck like himself. How they took on the monstrosity that was the Shagohod, and Volgin. He shuddered thinking about that _thing_ chasing after them – but he'd never felt so alive in his life. Everything in those moments had been so vivid. The colours, the sounds, the smell of gunpowder and charred earth. They had escaped death by the skin of their teeth. Intense moments like that naturally brought a sense of intimacy.

He remembered how terrified he was when he almost lost her. They were racing like mad on her motorcycle through the dense forest of Lazorevo, trying to outrun the Ocelot Unit when a stray bullet ruptured the fuel tank. They crashed, and although it did get the Unit off their trail, they were in pretty bad shape. EVA more so than him, impaling herself just above her left hip on a tree branch. God, he still remembered his hands shaking performing a hack's field surgery on the puncture wound. Para-Medic was giving him instructions over the radio, while he begged her to hang on. That he needed her. It was like some bad romance novel.

They were supposed to have gone on a real date when everything was over – the idea was sushi. Instead, she disappeared off into the blue, leaving him nothing but a cassette tape explaining her reasons. Really, what did he expect? A relationship between someone who was KBG and CIA to really work out? Except she wasn't even KBG, she worked for the People's Liberation Army. It was all so messed up, and it served him right for thinking he could play house.

And now, he could already see the pattern with he and Zahira. It started that way with EVA too, the caressing, the soft hushed tones, the jokes. She wasn't the one who would hurt him though. He would hurt her because of who he was.

Just how long did he really think he could hole up, hidden from the world before people started searching for _Big Boss_? Not just the CIA, but other organizations trying to add clout to their name. How long before people started using his "legacy" to further their own aims? Even though he had left FOX, Zero was already using it to inspire soldiers, lifting him to an almost god-like status. The heavily edited CIA record of Snake Eater was almost a bible for new recruits. Brainwashing them.

In the months after he had returned home, while he waited for his resignation to tender, he could already see how the men treated him differently. They called him _"Boss_ ", speaking it with a reverent tone that made him want to throw them against a wall and beat their faces in. He wasn't The Boss. She was dead.

And the sick thing was – he had a feeling this was only the beginning.

* * *

When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt of making love to EVA. When he woke up he was covered in sweat. Stumbling out of bed, he locked himself in the bathroom and forced himself to take an ice cold shower. He could only remember bits and pieces but it was enough to put him off for the night. In the dream, he was back in the safe house with EVA, with her like he never was before. Like he always wanted to be. Her body smooth and supple beneath him. Everything was fine, wonderful even, until EVA, wasn't EVA. Instead, it was Zahira telling him that she loved him. That she wanted him, and he just remembered the fear that those words sent through him. Love meant she would hurt him. She would leave. Just like how EVA left him on the cold wooden floor. Returning to bed, he prayed that, this time, his slumber would be dreamless.

* * *

Zahira waited patiently for Ishmael to arrive. She had told him to come at ten thirty and to get ready for a long day of filling out forms. After what had happened yesterday, she hoped it would help take his mind off whatever thing that was haunting him. Taking a sip of her tea, she closed her eyes and sighed. Yesterday had been scary seeing him like that. Not as scary as when he collapsed in the street, but still unsettling. It wasn't every day a big man like him was reduced to incoherent sobs. She wanted to know what happened to him – who was the "she" who didn't want him to break down like that? A lover? A friend? A sister, even?

There was so much she didn't know about him. When he did speak about himself, he always was so meticulous about exactly what he revealed to her. There was always something he seemed to hold back. Getting to know him was like trying to unravel a ball of yarn. Slow, and just when you thought you were getting somewhere you realize there's a huge knot in the way.

But she would work through the knots, because underneath it all, she knew there was a good person. All he needed was a little help. Zahira sighed again – or a lot of help.

The soft chiming of the doorbell ringing told her that Ishmael had arrived and was waiting for her out on the landing. Setting down her cup of tea, she wandered down the hallway in bare feet to let in "Mr. Mysterious" as she sometimes liked to call him. Never to his face, but definitely in her head and when she would phone home to Alya and Mable.

Alya, of course, thought she was insane going after him. "It just sounds like he has a lot of... issues," her sister had said, trying to politely dissuade her. "And you know how Mom feels about smoking."

Mable, on the other hand, just wanted to know the details on his appearance and if they had done anything yet. She was still such a kid at heart, and that's what she loved about her. Even though she'd settled down and had a kid of her own, she never lost that fun-loving spirit.

Opening the door, she had to suppress a giggle as Mable's description of Ishmael popped into her head. _"So, he's like... pirate Clint Eastwood."_

From Ishmael's confused expression, she assumed that he had heard her giggling despite trying her best not to. This made her giggle even more.

"You drinking this early in the morning, Purple?" he said, mouth twisted into a small smirk.

"No, no," she breathed, taking a moment to regain her composure before continuing, "I just remembered something funny."

Letting him in, Zahira took another look at him. "Pirate Clint Eastwood" was a pretty accurate descriptor. Ish wasn't as gangly as Eastwood though, but the hawk eyes and nose were there. He had that gorgeous head of thick brown hair that was always somewhat dishevelled. Today he had it curiously tied back by an olive green bandana. It was hard for her not to get a little giddy each time she saw him. He was handsome in a rough and rugged way. It was a shame he didn't see that.

Once they were inside her flat, she ushered him to sit down and make himself comfy. He looked calmer from yesterday, which was good. But something still felt a little off.

"Can I get you some tea, Ish?"

Shaking his head, he sighed, "No, it's okay. Let's just get down to business."

He was looking down at his hands. Pressing her lips together, Zahira sighed inwardly. That wasn't a good sign. When something was wrong, he always avoided making eye contact with her. She hoped he didn't have a night terror last night. Now that she thought about it, he did have bags under his eyes.

"You look kind of tired, I don't mind making you some tea," she insisted.

Another sigh and a grunt of agreement, "Alright, a cup of tea would be nice, I guess."

Wandering to the kitchen Zahira smiled to herself. She knew he wanted a cup of tea. The big oaf was playing "hard to get" and deflecting once again. Maybe "hard to get" was the wrong expression, but he was doing that machismo thing where he had to be "independent". She found it endearing at first, but now, it was nothing but frustrating. What started off as a childish aversion to wanting to let people in on their dirty laundry was turning into something else. She wasn't stupid, and knew he was actively trying to push her away. But she wouldn't let him. Something told her that if she did just walk away, he was going to spiral even deeper into whatever black hole he was creating for himself. It was just a hunch before, but yesterday confirmed it for her.

With his cup of tea in hand, she took a seat on the couch next to him. The forms they had to fill out were already all neatly laid out on the coffee table. Unlike Ishmael, she was a believer in eating and working in comfort.

"Thanks," Ishmael said quietly, accepting the cup of tea.

He still wasn't making eye contact with her.

Something was up.

It did make some sense, yesterday was horrible for him – but he had also made the effort to apologize for acting standoffish. It was something he didn't need to do, but it made her feel a little better that he did. As depressed as he was, there were some moments where he was being a flat-out jerk. Still, she hoped he wasn't holding on to something like that and using it to beat himself up again.

"No worries, Ish," she laughed. She needed to try and keep the mood light. At least until they could start burying themselves in paper work. "How was the walk over?"

"Fine," he answered after taking a sip of his tea.

Monosyllabic answers. Yup. Something was definitely wrong.

Zahira just nodded in response. "That's good."

His eyes darted to the corner of the room, and then finally back up at her. There was a strange almost pained expression on his face. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but thought better of it. She would wait and see how he was doing first.

"So, do you want to explain the game plan to me?" he said gruffly.

She sighed and began going through the different forms. Most were for finalizing permits and ordering in supplies. She would take all the forms in Pashto, and he would deal with the forms from the American Botanical Society. What she didn't tell him is that she planned it that way, so he could ask her lots of questions. Even better for keeping his mind busy.

Once the forms were done, they would crunch some numbers and she would go over the map and point out where she was planning on setting up camp in the Registan.

Ishmael grabbed the pen she had placed by his stack of forms and began diligently reading through them. Working on her own forms, she could catch a glimpse of him getting more and more confused by the minute. Everything was going according to plan. She didn't care if it would take her twice as long to get her work done. He was with her and she knew he wasn't ruminating at home.

"Zahira, these are from the Botanical Society?" his voice was a little bit higher than usual. God, he was adorable when he was confused. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

Unable to contain her smile, she laughed gently, "Well, what's the first question?"

"What's the premise/purpose of your experiment and what do you hope to achieve?"

Ugh, he was so cute. The way he pouted and his eyebrows arched. All she wanted to do was squish his cheeks and make him blush. Anything to take him out of that awful mood he was in so often.

"Just put down, experiment to increase and test plant life resiliency in extreme environments and for what I hope to achieve, turn harsh climates into farmable land eventually leading to farming in space."

He shot her a dumbfounded look, "For some reason I was expecting something more science-y sounding."

"I'm a botanist. Not a rocket scientist. Besides, I like the KISS method. Keep it simple, stupid," she laughed.

"I guess? Maybe I'm just used to dealing with physicists and engineers. Whenever they talk it sounds like Greek to me," he chuckled.

Zahira grinned. Finally, Mr. Mysterious was beginning to budge out of his shell.

"That's why I like botany. It's practical. People like you can understand it. It's easy to explain to people without going over their heads."

"That's really neat," he answered. She caught a small smile on his lips. It was only there for a fraction of a second, but it was still a smile.

One day, she hoped she could tell him how precious his smiles were. They were always a little crooked, and he had the biggest set of dimples she'd ever seen. It was weird to think that a man who looked so rugged all the time could have such a disarming smile.

She wanted to see him smile again today. Not a smirk, but a real smile.


	30. Chapter 30

_A/N: HEY GUYS. I'M BACK. Job training was amazing and I'm really looking forward to this new job. :D This is a really long chapter, and it took me a while to write so I hope it's ok! Thank you so much for all the feedback. Seriously, it's a great motivator c:_

 _Just a heads up, I'll be tabling at an anime convention in a few weeks and I have to pump out some merch so the next update may be a little slow, but I AM WORKING ON IT. I'm still going to try and get it out sometime next week, but if I'm late you guys know why._

 **CHAPTER THIRTY**

The stack of incomplete forms were dwindling down, and Zahira could sense the restless energy radiating from Ishmael as his eyes darted to the doorway. He drummed his fingers against the smooth wood of the coffee table, almost as if he was searching for a moment to escape.

Any conversation she had tried to pry out of him that wasn't strictly job related was met with resistance uncharacteristic for even someone as guarded as Ishmael. She had avoided talking about anything that could remind him about yesterday. She tried to keep it light, joking with him, throwing in the occasional flirtatious remark. But, it was all met with either a half-hearted smile or a one-word answer. The progress she thought she was making all seemed to be moot now.

She was fairly certain she didn't do anything wrong. The sudden change in his demeanor was making her worried. He was shutting down, and shutting her out. He had done something similar at the hospital, but that was understandable in a way. They had just met. But now, they knew each other better didn't they?

Sighing, Zahira signed her name on the bottom of the last form in her pile. He'd snap out of it eventually. It was just a matter of time and patience.

She smiled softly, and tried to speak with some cheer in her voice, "Almost done?"

"Yeah, two more left," he answered, his eyes still focused on the form in front of him.

Biting her lips, Zahira tried her best to calm her growing agitation. He'd been like this all day. No eye-contact. He was purposefully avoiding even looking at her. Was he really that torn about yesterday? Was she some pariah to him since seeing him cry?

"That's good," she said quietly.

No response.

She could cut the silence between them with a knife.

He finished the last form, and pushed his completed stack next to hers. His shoulders were tense and he kept staring at the door.

So, he really wanted to leave that badly?

She didn't know why it hurt so much, but it did. She wished he'd just spit out what was bothering him, instead of making her guess. If only she could get inside of that head of his.

Leaving him for a moment, she went to her bedroom to fish out a map, so they could make plans on where they would set up camp. On the way, she stole a glance at him. He held his head in his hands, eyes closed and breathing in deeply.

Seeing him so wrapped up in himself like that hurt her even more. What happened to him that made him hate himself so much? If only she could fix him, help him pick up the pieces of himself. She wanted him see that he wasn't a monster.

When she returned, Ishmael greeted her with a small, "Welcome back."

It was the first time in hours that he had made eye-contact with her.

"I brought the map," she answered, spreading it out on the table for the both of them to see. "Why don't you come sit closer to me, so it's easier to see?"

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked genuinely confused. However, it wasn't long before the frown that had been carved into his face for the day, was back. It pained her how, almost obediently he got up and sat down next to her. There was no awkward Ish. None of the endearing nervousness that usually was there when they were close to each other.

Zahira placed her hand gently on his knee, hoping that maybe her touch would pull him out of whatever he was feeling. It had helped in the past. She caught Ishmael glancing down at her hand. The corners of his lips rose ever-so-slightly, before returning back. He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand gently, before pushing it away.

As they discussed potential campsites, Zahira couldn't stop thinking about the gesture. His voice was still cold and clinical. One word answers. Nods of approval. No witty jokes, nothing that made him – _him_. But, how he almost smiled, and squeezed her hand... what did it mean? That he was just having a bad day and couldn't talk? That he was hiding something? She just didn't know.

Their good-byes were awkward. Zahira gave him a hug that was met with stiff arms. She made him promise that he would come over again tomorrow. She was going to teach him about her field. With the way he was acting though, it would be a miracle if he actually listened to her.

* * *

The next day, and the day after that, brought more of the same cold behaviour. Each time it happened, Zahira felt her heart sink deeper and deeper in her chest. She was getting tired of the push and pull. Did he want her or didn't he? There were moments where she thought that the storm was finally blowing over – he laughed, he shot her a smile – only to face disappointment.

The mixed signals were driving her crazy, and it was beginning to affect her work. She was spending so much time worrying about him that she couldn't concentrate on troubleshooting her experiment. She had gotten her controls down, but needed to finesse the different variables in her tests. And she couldn't do that if all she thought about was Ishmael, Ishmael, Ishmael.

So, when he finally came to her door, Zahira grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. She felt a wave of triumph wash over her as she caught a blush creeping across his face. It was something other than the hard, blank expression she had grown accustomed to looking at for the past few days.

"Zahira?" he said, his voice rising in confusion.

"Hmm?" she replied absently, wandering over to her record player sitting on a table by the windowsill.

If he wasn't going to talk to her, the least she could do was listen to music. It would at least make the silence between them easier to bear.

She threw on a Joan Baez album. There was a song on it that she wanted Ishmael to hear. Maybe music could get through to him where she couldn't. Sighing to herself, she shook her head – it probably wouldn't though, considering how dense he was.

Sitting down on the couch, Zahira had to stifle a laugh. She was actually going to play a song and hope it would get through to him. What was she? Sixteen? Her gaze fell on him, and she sighed again. He made her feel like she was sixteen. Young, naive, and wanting someone to notice her.

"Are you okay?"

His question caught her by surprise, and she had to try her best not to let on how tired she was. There he went with pulling her back in again.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she responded, leaning her head back into the couch cushions, closing her eyes.

Zahira felt the cushion next to her compress, as Ishmael took a seat beside her. Opening her eyes, she saw the look of concern on his face, and was thoroughly confused. He had given her the cold shoulder all week, and now he cared if her feelings were hurt?

"You don't...um, look okay?" he spoke quietly, casting his gaze at the floor again.

Why couldn't he just look at her when he spoke? Right now, that was all she wanted. The frustration building up inside of her was burning inside her chest. Why was he throwing her for a loop? It probably wasn't intentional, but it still didn't make it okay. It didn't make it okay to treat her like shit while he was off locking himself away in his mind.

"Ishmael," she sighed, resting her head in her hands, "can you please just look at me?"

He perked up at the sound of his name, and turned his head to face her. She could feel the anxiety radiating off him, even if his expression remained hard.

"I... we need to talk," her voice was calm. She needed to stay calm for him to hear her, as much as she just wanted to scream at him. She took a deep breath, "And, I really need you to just sit and listen for a while."

* * *

 _"We need to talk."_

Weren't those the words every man dreaded hearing? Those four words managed to bring up every possible mistake you'd ever made.

And he had made a lot of mistakes in his life.

Snake pressed his lips together and nodded. His fingers tightly clutched the fabric of his pants, as he waited for Zahira to list what he'd done to make her angry. And he wasn't stupid, he knew what he did. He felt horrible for treating her with the third degree, but she was getting too close. Why couldn't she have taken the hint and made it easy for him? Why couldn't she just back off?

"Ishmael, what's up? What's going on in that head of yours that's making you act like this?" her voice was firm. She wasn't going to budge on this one.

Grimacing, Snake realized he was cornered. There was a lot going on in his head, but he didn't want to share it with her. He didn't want to share it with anyone. But least of all her. She'd already done enough, and he wouldn't be able to repay her kindness back the way she wanted him to. And even if he could do that, she deserved someone who wasn't full of problems. Someone stable.

"Acting like what?" he mumbled, eyes downcast, trying to play dumb.

He inhaled slowly, trying to calm himself down – he'd always been a terrible liar, and there was no way she wasn't going to pick up on it. With how fast his heart was racing he'd be surprised if she couldn't hear it herself.

Suspicion proven right, he could see Zahira's mouth twitch as she suppressed a groan. "Ish, come on. Have a little faith in my intelligence," she laughed dryly.

"It's ... I really don't want to put this on you," he answered, looking down at his hands.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Zahira move towards him, her hand tentatively reaching out to touch his face. Sighing, Snake turned his gaze back to her, gently catching her arm by the wrist.

"Please don't." He gave her a small, pleading smile, before letting go.

"I don't get it," she sighed, clasping her hands together. "I just don't understand why you think shutting everyone out is going to help you."

She glanced at the record player in the distance, then at her hands, and then at him. "I know you've been through a lot. I know it's some dark and heavy stuff. But you can't just push people out." Before he could interject, Zahira continued on, "Not only are you hurting yourself, but you're hurting me too."

"Zahira...I," he breathed.

He closed his eyes and his brows narrowed. He didn't want to hurt her. But this was a smaller hurt than what she would feel if he let her get closer to him. Why couldn't she understand the position she was putting him in. He didn't want to do this to her, but he didn't have a choice. She couldn't begin to comprehend how complicated his life had become.

"Ishmael, honestly the last few days have left me really confused. Because I see you're upset that you hurt me – but you pull me in. You're friendly, you're kind, charming even? In a dorky sort of way." She shifted closer to him, and sighed, "but then you push me away, you're cold, you treat me like I'm nothing. Like you can just step on me. And I _won't_ be stepped on."

He opened his eyes, blinking slowly. "No, I," he leaned closer to her, brushing his fingers against her knee, unaware of his actions. "I never wanted you to –" the words weren't coming out of his throat. The guilt was getting to him, crawling under his skin. "I just. I can't let this go further."

Snake's mouth hung open as he tried to think of what to say to her next. He needed to find a way to apologize to her, but still hold his ground. Even if he wanted to be with her, (and maybe a small part of him considered that wanting) he couldn't. The music in the room was making it hard for him to think of a proper answer.

 _"I don't mean trouble, please don't put me down, don't get upset,_

 _I am not pleading or saying, 'I can't forget you'._

 _I do not walk the floor bowed and bent,_

 _But yet, Daddy you've been on my mind."_

Zahira glanced again at the record player, and then back at him. Almost like she was trying to tell him something. He shook his head and held his head in his hands. "Listen, I'm sorry." Placing his hands back in his lap he tried to bring himself to look at her but couldn't.

She sighed deeply, and grabbed his hands in hers. When he tried to pull away, she held on tighter, "Please, Ish?" her voice was small.

"I know you're sorry, but what am I supposed to do with you? I... I want to be here for you, but if you're hot and cold with me, one minute acting like you want me, and the next like you don't... I can't. I want to see you be happy, Ish, if I could make you happy I-" Zahira stopped talking as a blush spread across her face.

She wanted to make him happy. Snake closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. His chest tightened. It was worse than he thought. Did she... feel the way he thought she was feeling?

 _"Even though my mind is hazy, and my thoughts they might be narrow,_

 _Where you been don't bother me, nor bring me down in sorrow._

 _It don't even matter who you're waking with tomorrow,_

 _Daddy, you're just on my mind."_

His heart was torn in two. But there were so many reasons why, especially now if what he thought was true, that he couldn't let this continue on. Sure, there were plenty of soldiers who had a family and made it work – but they hadn't done the things he did. They hadn't killed like he had. None of them were forced to murder their innocent mothers. And he was disfigured, and ugly and fucked up. He had people after him, looking. Nasty people. People who a bright girl like Zahira should never have to deal with.

And he was _scared_.

He was scared of opening himself up again and having someone crush him all over again.

But she was such an amazing girl. There weren't words for what she was. And she deserved someone better, even if he wanted her.

"I'm not asking you to change overnight. I know it will be hard. But can you try? Can you promise me you'll try? Because if you can't, or if you won't. I can't keep opening myself up to you. And it'll be strictly business. No dinners, no ice cream dates. I won't phone to check up on you..." she said, her voice shaking towards the end.

Snake rubbed the insides of her palm with his thumb, taking in how smooth her skin was. Even now, even with all the shit he was putting her through, her eyes were still gentle. They were vulnerable. She was laying herself down for him. The butterflies in his stomach were back. He had to choose.

 _"I am not asking you to say words like 'yes' or 'no',_

 _Please understand me, I 'm not calling for you to go._

 _I'm just breathing to myself, pretending not that I don't know,_

 _That Daddy, you been on my mind."_

She leaned in closer, their foreheads touching like the night he broke down and cried in her arms. His shoulders tensed, as he felt one of her hands travel to the back of his head. Her fingers running through his hair. A blush crept across his face, and his breathing staggered. It felt good. It felt right. But he couldn't. He couldn't do this to her.

Her lips were dangerously close to his now, and his heart began racing even faster. He tried pulling away, but his body was frozen. Her words, his emotions, how close she was – it was all too much. Sensory overload.

"Ishmael, I... I'm really putting myself out here when I say this," she said, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

Those honest eyes.

"I," she breathed, "I think I love you. And if you don't want me, please, just tell me so I can put those feelings aside, because I don't want to make things hard for you."

Everything seemed to go white. He couldn't process. Longing. Desire. Fear. It all melded together.

"Zahira."

"I'm sorry, I said too much."

He closed his eyes, trying to sort through everything that was burning inside of him. His words coming out slow and shaky, "If I, if I do this. I'm scared of what might happen."

"Walk through the fear with me. Do this with me. You don't have to be alone. Please," the calm in her voice was gone. She was outright pleading with him now.

"You don't know what you're saying," he laughed nervously, "I'm going to hurt you."

"If you hurt me, you hurt me. I'm a big girl. This is my decision. If you'll try, we'll work through it."

Snake's hands travelled down to the small of her back, and he cursed himself for staring at her lips. His body was betraying him. He wanted her. He didn't want to lose her.

"Zahira, if you think love is going to fix me – I'm a really messed up person," he trailed off, pressing his head against her forehead again.

"Ishmael, everyone is messed up," she giggled softly. "I'm twenty-eight, and I act like I'm fifteen."

He sighed, even in the heaviest of moments, she managed to find some way to lighten the mood. This girl was wrapping herself around him, and at this rate, he'd never be free. He couldn't fight it anymore. He wanted her.

"It's your funeral, then," he laughed softly.

Eyes widening in surprise, Zahira looked up at him, mouth slightly parted, "Wait what?"

His hands were shaking as he pulled her closer, their lips hardly inches apart. "You heard me," he whispered, "you want to do this with me, it's your funeral."

Before he knew it, her soft lips were upon his. Eyes still open; it took him a minute to register the fact that she was kissing him. His arms stiff.

This was happening.

She laughed as she pulled away. Shaking her head at how innocent and awkward he was.

"If that's the case. Kiss me again, and kill me now."

 _A/N: The song Zahira plays is "Daddy, You've Been On My Mind" by Joan Baez. It's off her album, Farewell Angelina which was released in 1965. Obviously, I don't own the rights to the song or the lyrics. So DISCLAIMER!_

 _A/N JULY 3RD 2016: Thanks mockingjaybrandybuck for pointing out some minor SPaG errors! All fixed :D_


	31. Chapter 31

_A/N: Hey guys! OH MY GOSH I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE. First week of work was cray, cray. Good but super busy, plus I had to get all my convention stuff printed! But everything is good and done now so I should be more or less on schedule. This chapter is a little bit longer too, because I know some of you guys asked for that! I hope it's okay :D Thanks so much for continuing to read this. It means a lot c:_

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE**

It wasn't long before Zahira sprawled on top of him, placing feverish kisses along his jaw line, his head uncomfortably arched on the armrest of the couch. The fact that his neck was aching didn't matter to him as he closed his eyes, running his fingers through Zahira's thick, wavy hair. He would regret this; when he posed the question of her taking the plunge with him, he wasn't expecting her to take him seriously. But here they were, and he wasn't going to stop it, even if his better judgement was telling him he should. It felt too good.

He felt guilty for enjoying her fingers running down his chest, or the little sighs she made as he pulled her in closer for another kiss, clumsy and unpracticed. How soft her lips were against his own rougher ones. Her scent filling his head.

She deserved better. Someone whole. But, now that he had tasted her lips, the thought of someone else having her made him shudder with jealousy.

And there he was getting attached too quickly again. Was he so starved of affection that even the smallest gestures of kindness brought him to his knees?

Wincing, his teeth accidentally sunk into Zahira's bottom lip, making her gasp as she pulled away. Startled, Snake opened his eyes and shifted his body so he could sit up a little better. He could feel his face growing warm with embarrassment as she rubbed her lip with her hand.

Pulling her hand away, she glanced at her fingers, cringing. "Jeez, Ish. Sharp teeth you got there," she laughed. Turning her hand around, Snake could see small bloodstains on her fingertips.

"Zahira," he breathed, eyes wide, "I'm sorry. I can't believe-"

"Ish, it's fine. It really doesn't hurt all that much," she answered with a small smile. However, the furrow in her brows told him otherwise. "You're like a wild animal when you kiss," she continued, still laughing despite the pain she was in. "So forceful."

Snake's face fell, and he held his head in his hands. He couldn't even kiss a girl properly. The whole relationship thing, or whatever _this_ was, wasn't going to work if he couldn't even do that. Almost thirty-one and he couldn't even do a simple thing like kiss a girl. God, he was pathetic. With how useless he was, he didn't even know how he and EVA managed to get so far.

Lifting his head out of his hands, Snake forced a smile on his face. "I'm really bad at this, aren't I?"

"You're not bad, I promise," she cooed, placing a small kiss on his forehead. "You're just a little rough around the edges. But we'll soften you up with practice."

The kiss caught him off guard, his chest tightened as the butterflies in his stomach started swirling around inside of him. It was so gentle and reassuring – he couldn't ever remember EVA kissing him like that. It was a strange feeling.

"Practice?"

"Oh, Ish, you're hilarious," she giggled, "Y' know, more kissing?"

"You still want to kiss me after that?" He was in disbelief. There was no way any rational woman would want to still kiss him after that .

"Mmm hmm. It still stings a little still, but it was kind of hot," she admitted, blushing. "Besides, you're kind of gorgeous yourself, so I'd be dumb to not want to kiss you again."

But Zahira wasn't "any rational woman", he should have known that by now. Only she would think some one-eyed grizzly bear of a man who couldn't kiss properly was "gorgeous". And even then, part of him felt like she was only saying that to make him feel better.

"You're something else," he laughed, shaking his head. Resting his hands on her thigh, he looked back up at her and said, "Whether you found it...um... you know, or not, we should clean your lip up. I don't want it to get infected or something."

"Ishmael, it's fine. It was a little nick, it's not like you severed an artery or something," she teased, leaning forward, placing another small kiss on his forehead. "I'm not some fragile little flower you have to be afraid of squishing."

She slid off him, and began making her way towards the bathroom, clearly in an attempt to humour him. Sighing, he watched bewildered as she walked in front of him. He noted in amusement how mussed up her hair was from their make-out session on the couch. The light yellow shirt she was wearing had gained a few noticeable wrinkles from pressing up against him. He swallowed, stealing a quick glance at how great her butt and legs looked in the shorts she was wearing.

They'd kissed, so didn't that make it kind of okay to stare a little? That's how it worked right?

However, Snake was quickly brought back down to Earth as Zahira teased him, "Didn't know you were so keen on checking out my ass, Ish." Leaning against the wall, she tilted her head and smiled. "You going to help patch me up or what?"

Returning her smile sheepishly, he could feel his face going red again. "I thought you said you weren't a fragile flower, and did you just-"

"Use your own line on you? Yeah, I did," she said, trying her best to cover up how amused she was. "Normally, even if I tell you I can take care of myself, you usually always come up with some excuse to take care of me. I guess you must be enjoying the view."

"I...well. You're not wrong," he fumbled. He was so flustered he could feel his ears going red. Realizing he had just admitted he was staring, his mouth hung ajar for a few moments before he covered his face with his hands. He was great at this. Really good. The women department was _clearly_ his specialty.

Shaking her head, she giggled softly, "You're funny."

He lowered his hands from his face, just enough so he could see her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," she answered with a grin. "You just sit there, and I'll be right back. And don't enjoy yourself too much," she added with a wink, as she wandered into the hallway.

"Uh, right," he mumbled, finally letting his hands fall to his sides.

Once she was out of his line of vision, Snake closed his eyes and sighed. So, was this going to be the new normal between them now? Was she his girl now? Did that make them a couple or was this just going to be a casual fling? Even though Zahira told him that she was in love with him, was she really? He didn't think loving someone happened so quickly. They had gotten closer, but she still didn't know much about him, not counting the things he intentionally was hiding from her. And he didn't know how he felt about her. Could he say he loved her back? Could he really love anyone after his last mission?

The regret he knew he would feel after kissing her was setting in faster than he had expected.

Hearing the soft patter of Zahira's footsteps, he tried to make himself look as relaxed as possible. He needed the time to think over his feelings. Something he should have done before he and Zahira started kissing on her couch.

Or, he thought looking up at her, he could deal with it now, and get it over with.

"Hey," Zahira said sitting down next to him, smiling.

"Welcome back," he answered, placing his hand on top hers before giving it a gentle squeeze. He looked into her eyes and tried to compose himself. It wasn't like he was asking her to marry him, he just needed to clear the air for his own sake.

Almost as if on cue, Zahira seemed to notice his discomfort. "Something up?"

Caught off guard, Snake felt his cheeks grew warm again as a blush spread across his face. "I, uh, well," he said struggling to find the right words, "I was just wondering what we were? Like are you my," he glanced at her for a moment, before his eyes flitted down to the floor, "are you my girl now?"

Raising his eyes back up again, he saw a tinge of pink begin to colour Zahira's face. Her mouth twitched upwards and she tried to suppress a grin. "Well, if you want me to be," she answered softly.

"So, does that make us a couple now?" He could feel his heart racing again, as he said those words. This was so unlike him. He'd never been interested in having a relationship before, and now he was asking her, almost hoping (but not too hard) that she would say yes.

He could feel the warmth of Zahira's lips on his cheek, and closed his eyes for a moment. She was tough and stubborn, but yet everything about her managed to still be so soft. "Again, that's you. Because my answer is yes. But it doesn't mean anything if you don't want for yourself too," she answered.

"I'm sorry," Snake breathed, giving her hand another light squeeze, "I've just never done this before."

Leaning back, Zahira raised her eyebrows and looked at him curiously, and laughed, "You're kidding, right. Handsome fellow like you?"

Snake cringed at being called "handsome". He didn't like being reminded of how he used to be somewhat attractive before his right eye got shot out. Being patronized wasn't something he appreciated.

"I just was never interested in it. All I needed was a gun in my hand for a thrill," he said with a shrug, "And please stop calling me 'handsome' or 'gorgeous'... it just... doesn't feel right."

"Wait why?" Zahira answered, her voice tight with concern. "I think you're better looking than Clint Eastwood, even with one bad eye."

Her comment made him blush more, and he was feeling increasingly flustered. It would be really nice if it were true.

"You're sweet, but you really don't have to say things like that to make me feel better about myself," he said.

"What?" Zahira breathed, "do you think I'm patronizing you, because if that's the case-"

Snake's mouth dropped a little. "Wait, you're being serious?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would I say something like that if I didn't mean it?" she said grinning, "You're cute Ish. You just need to stop being so hard on yourself."

"I... thanks I guess," he responded, feeling even more embarrassed at the fact that he couldn't even take a compliment. Ever since that mission, everything had to have some secret negative connotation.

"Still, I can't believe you haven't dated anyone before. I thought you mentioned having some experience," she laughed.

"Well, I wouldn't call the last girl I was with a relationship," he sighed thinking about EVA, "it was more of a fling. I fell a little too hard, too fast and then we went our separate ways."

"Oh," Zahira said, taken aback for a moment, "I'm sorry."

She reached for his other hand so she could hold it, but he stopped her. "Don't worry about it. You didn't know," he sighed again. "Besides, it wouldn't have worked anyway if we decided to go steady."

"Am I allowed to ask why? You don't have to tell me. I get that's it personal," she said before taking a breath, "I was just curious."

Closing his eyes, Snake leaned his head back on the sofa and tried to stop himself from sighing for the third time in a row. Zahira, when she was able, really liked to ask the hard questions.

"We had different lives. I would be on one side of world and she would be on the other. She had her career and I had mine," he replied.

"That sucks."

"Yeah it does," he answered quietly, the bitterness of the situation seeping into his voice. He would be lying if he said that he didn't still have some feelings for EVA. But, reality was reality and that wasn't going to happen. "But, hey, it didn't work out and I got to meet you."

"Well, I'm glad I got to meet you too, Ish," she laughed.

He felt happy to hear her say that, but as much as it made him glad, he couldn't help feel guilty again. 'Ish', the nickname he told himself he was going to stop slipped under his radar and became second nature. She had no clue she was being lied to. However unintentional it was, and now he would have to find a way to tell her. Except he couldn't just come out and say, 'By the way, my name isn't Ishmael and I've been kind of lying to you this whole time.' It wouldn't work. She would get angry. She would leave, and he had gotten himself into an even bigger mess. But how would he do it?

Leaning in, Zahira touched the side of his face gently before placing her lips on his. This time Snake knew what was happening and closed his eyes, bringing her in closer. A small moan escaped his lips as he felt her brush against his beard. Parting the kiss, he pressed his forehead against hers and smiled. Maybe he could do this. Taking slow, small, baby steps with her, maybe he could find a way to love her and be honest.

"You're too good for me, I hope you know that," he whispered.

"Let me be the judge of that, you giant dork," Zahira giggled.

"Alright, Purple. I wouldn't be able to tell you otherwise anyway," he laughed, ruffling her hair, "you're Little Miss Stubborn."

Pouting, Zahira took a jab at him playfully. "Yeah, well you're Mister Macho Bone Head."

Snake just smiled, he didn't have a comeback for her remark. She was such a silly girl. Wanting to spend time with some morose bastard like him when she could be out having the time of her life with someone else.

"Anyway, Mister Bone Head, that kiss was an upgrade from the last one, so you're improving fast," she giggled rubbing her nose against his.

"Well, I've always been a fast learner I guess," he said shrugging. "Normally, I'd be applying all of that to survival techniques though."

"You're going to have to teach me more of those, seeing how you got sick before you could cover everything," Zahira laughed.

Nodding, Snake began massaging the back of her neck. "Uh huh, and you still owe me lessons in Pashto, if I recall correctly, Purple."

"I want to learn whatever language your books were in," she replied with a pout, "one of them looked like Greek or something."

"Not Greek, Russian. The alphabet's similar at a glance."

"Ah, that's neat. What other languages can you speak? I want to compare, see if there's any more I can learn," she said.

Closing his eyes, Snake sighed and laughed, "Alright, here you go. Take some notes. Russian, French, Spanish, some Italian because it's similar to the other two, I picked up some basic Korean during the war. Never could manage German that well though."

"I'm jealous," she giggled, "I wanted to come out on top knowing more than you."

"Got a little bit of an ego there, Purple?"

"I just like being the best when it comes to academia," she sighed, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis. "It's probably the only thing that kept my head on straight during high school and early college. I would stay up until three AM studying after being an idiot all day."

"Right. I know you brag about being a delinquent, but other than sneaking out to see drag races, smoke and party, what did you do?" Snake said with a smirk. "Humour me, I'm curious."

"Oh, boy. Let's see," she breathed, "Well, I helped hide a couple of my friends from the fuzz once. They'd caused some stupid greaser gang trouble, so I had to shove one of them in our big deep freezer in the basement."

"Deep freezer? For how long?" he laughed, "I wonder how your poor parents felt about all of this."

"It was never very long. I think maybe five minutes? And luckily, my parents were out and it was just Alya, who I had sworn to secrecy. She kind of had a crush on the guy anyway, so it wasn't very hard."

Kissing her on the forehead, Snake grinned. "I think with ingenuity like that you won't really need me to teach you any survival techniques."

"Maybe I won't," she giggled, sticking out her tongue in playful defiance. "But I feel like you could still teach me some new tricks," she added.

" _Quoi que vous disiez, mademoiselle,_ " he teased, nuzzling her nose. " _Vous êtes fougueuse pour votre bien."_

Zahira slapped his shoulder playfully, and grinned. "Show off."

"Not always, but today – why not."

Snake let his hands drift to her lower back, and gently laid her down on the couch. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he leaned in to kiss her again. He never realized how nice just kissing and talking like this could be, now that his nerves about it began to subside. It was a relief that she would be patient with him while he awkwardly experimented with what felt good to the both of them.

"So, you going to come over again tomorrow or what?" Zahira laughed between kisses.

"Getting greedy for my attention already?"

"I was always greedy for it, Ishmael. Now just give me an answer," she giggled, reaching up to place a small peck on the tip of his nose.

Sighing, Snake closed his eyes and smiled wide. "Yeah, I guess. Not like I have anything better to do anyway."

His cheeky response earned him a grumpy pout from Zahira, which made him smile even more. He didn't know why she was so keen on spending time with him, but if it made her happy, why not.

* * *

The next morning, Snake took an uncharacteristic amount of time choosing something to wear to Zahira's. It was a strange feeling, wanting to dress to impress someone, but here he was, standing in front of his closet, trying to put together something somewhat stylish out of rag-tag mix of civilian and military clothes. He didn't know how women dealt with the pressure of choosing something appealing to wear every day. It would drive him crazy. Sighing, he decided to keep it simple, throwing on a plain white shirt and jeans. Feeling more nervous than inspired, he even took the time to trim his facial hair.

He smiled at himself apprehensively in the mirror. At least he looked less like a scary grizzly bear than before.

Getting to her place had become second nature to him, and he had found a different route that was less crowded than what she normally took. It added ten minutes to the trip, but walking in comfort away from the rush of people made it worth it. He liked to be able to hear himself think, something he couldn't do when there were bodies everywhere. And crowds just put him on edge, he was always waiting for someone to be hiding in the shadows, ready to jump him.

As he approached her door, Snake chuckled to himself. He was spending more time here than he was at his own place now. Largely, that was Zahira's doing, convincing him to get out of the house. But he really didn't have an excuse to stay at home. It wasn't like he had a pet to keep company. And at the very least, she kept him distracted, even if it still made him a little bit uncomfortable.

Buzzing in, he waited patiently, humming under his breath, for Zahira to come to the door. It was weird to think that she was his girl now. The concept was still so new that he couldn't quite wrap his head around it. Yesterday was still a whirlwind and he wasn't entirely sure how things were going to turn out. But, he was willing to try – even if it was going to be like pulling teeth. He owed her that much after all.

He could pick up her footsteps as she drew closer to the door. The butterflies were back, and he could feel his chest tighten. Snake wondered if the butterflies would ever go away, or if he would perpetually be stuck with the running nerves each time he saw her.

The door finally opened, and he inhaled deeply. He shouldn't be so nervous about spending time with her again. Nothing had really changed between them except for the fact that they swapped spit on the couch. It was still same old, crazy Zahira. Nothing to be afraid of.

"Morning, Ish. Looking like James Dean today, I see?" she giggled, after giving him a good once over.

Stifling a laugh, Snake shook his head, "James Dean, huh? I show up in a shirt and jeans and I'm Dean? I think you need to get your eyes checked Purple." He thought about giving her a quick peck, but decided against it. Instead, he smirked, continuing in sarcasm, "Maybe your head too."

"Oh my God, Ish. Learn to take a compliment, will you," she laughed, grabbing him by the hand, pulling him inside, much like yesterday. "You're looking good today. Is it better if I say it in plain English?"

Zahira practically dragged him into her apartment; she was walking so quickly that his steps fumbled as he tried to avoid accidentally stepping on the backs of her heels. For someone with tiny legs, she knew how to use them. Once in the entryway, Zahira let go of his hand so he could kick off his shoes and relax.

With his boots off and tucked away neatly, Snake followed her into the living room. She was staring at something out the window with a small content smile. He was caught by how peaceful she looked, beautiful and calm. He took a deep breath – so this was "his" girl.

Feeling bold, he snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, smirking at the sound of her gasp as he pulled her close. Her shoulders tense from surprise.

"Whatcha' looking at Purple?" he said softly.

As she relaxed into his embrace, he sighed happily. It was tempting to close his eyes and just drift away in the softness of the moment. Already, it felt different from EVA. With her, everything was hot and passionate. There were no soft and gentle moments between them.

"Sorry," she laughed, tilting her head up to look at him, "it's just such a nice day outside. I was wondering if you wanted to take a walk."

"A walk sounds nice. We've been cooped up in here talking shop for the last couple of days. I wouldn't mind getting out," he answered.

"Perfect," she giggled, "I'll pack us a lunch and we can just wander around?"

Releasing her from his embrace, Snake shook his head and laughed, "Pack a lunch? Give yourself a break Zahira. I can take you out, it's fine."

Out of his grip, Zahira turned around to face him. Her cheeks tinged pink. "You don't have to do that. And besides," she sighed, "I like cooking for the two of us. It's better than just doing it for myself."

"You sound like a regular housewife, Purple."

"Yeah, well then you're a pacifist," she retorted sticking out her tongue.

"Oh yeah, definitely," he said, raising his eyebrows in amusement. "Anyway, just let me treat you. You've put up with a lot of my," a blush spread across his face, and he glanced downward, "a lot of my bullshit, so let me make it up to you."

She wrapped her arms around him, too short to reach his shoulders, she held him along his chest. Standing on the tips of her toes, she tried to reach up and kiss him, but couldn't. "You are a jerk. Why are you so tall?" she whined, "It's not fair."

Rolling his eyes and smiling, Snake pulled her close, and lifted her up enough so she could be at his eye level. "I think it's plenty fair. Makes you more, uh-" he paused, "cute. Like you're fun sized."

"Fun sized. Thanks Ish," she laughed, kissing him on the nose.

Snake shifted his arms to hold her weight better. He leaned in a kissed her, trying his hardest to be gentle. He bumped noses with her, making his breath hitch in embarrassment, but she didn't seem to mind. The guilt hit him in his stomach as she deepened the kiss. Deep down, he knew he didn't deserve this. Pulling away, he set her down on the floor, and forced a smile. Those thoughts and feelings didn't have a place here today. Somehow, he would find a way to tell her about his real name. The rest he had been mostly honest with her, telling her vague truths to spare her the horrors he'd been through.

"That was nice," she breathed, looking up at him.

"I, uh, good," he fumbled, quickly glancing away. "Um, ah, what were you doing before I came over I guess," he said in a feeble attempt to change the subject. Taking a compliment was going to be something he had to work on, but it just felt off.

Zahira laughed at his shyness. "You're cute."

Running his finger through his hair, Snake shook his head and sighed, "Whatever you say."

"Oh Ish," she giggled. "Anyway, before you came I was getting caught up on the news back at home. The anti-war protests are picking up. Probably a good thing. We shouldn't be involved."

Hearing her talk about the anti-war protests made him stiffen. He didn't want to get into a debate on politics. Not on one as sensitive as Vietnam, where he'd lost one of the few people he'd call a friend. He shook his head and sighed, "It's a lot more complicated than what they're making it out to be."

Zahira tilted her head in interest, "Tell me about it then. I want to know how you see it. Being a vet and all."

"Honest opinion? Or the one you want to hear? Because I doubt you'd like what I have to say," he laughed.

Rolling her eyes, Zahira let out a small, sharp chuckle, "Your honest one. Why would I want you to bullshit me?"

Amused, the corners of Snake's mouth twitched upwards, and he made his way to the sofa. "Well Purple," he said making a grand sweeping gesture with his arms, "you might as well take a seat, because knowing you, we'll be here for a few hours." He concluded his statement by plopping down on the cushions and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

"Knowing me?" Zahira gasped. Snake could tell he'd hit a nerve by the way her voice rose in pitch and how her eyebrows knitted together. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means you're stubborn as –"

"Oh, _I'm_ stubborn," she said jumping next to him on the couch. "Tell me more, ' _Mr. I Won't Accept Help From Anyone Ever'_."

"Hey," he answered, coming off a little harsher than intended. "I just don't want to bring other people down with my garbage."

Zahira let out a sigh and shook her head. "Ish, that's admirable, but you have to take out the trash sometime." Before he could reply, she squeezed his hand gently and grinned. "So, talk my ear off about 'Nam. I want to know what you think," she said, changing the subject as quickly as she could.

Throwing his head back, Snake sighed loudly, "Why do you want to know what I think?"

"I want to understand you," she said quietly, turning her head away.

Snake paused and looked at her with wide eyes. His mouth parted slightly, stunned. He could feel his heart racing once again, and he couldn't place the emotion that ran throughout his body. It scared him. As flattering as it was to hear something like that, more than anything else, it made him afraid.

"So, about Vietnam-"

The curious expression on Zahira's face as he changed spoke made him even more nervous and unsure of himself. He knew she could sense the change in how he was feeling from the way her lips pressed into a line. How'd she get so good at reading him?

"I think the protesters are," he paused for a moment, "ungrateful."

"How?" she laughed, "I wouldn't want to go out and kill innocent people and die in a ditch."

"I wouldn't call the Viet Cong innocent," Snake said dryly, "They've done their fair share of horrors."

Zahira sighed, "And the Army isn't? No offence Ishmael."

Snake closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip. "Never claimed I was innocent," he said, opening his eyes again. He could see Zahira's mouth drop and her face turn red. Her eyes darted up to his, full of guilt.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean you I – you're not like that- you were just –"

Laughing, Snake shook his head, cringing at how naive she was. This would be the test, he supposed, better to get it out of the way now than later. If she couldn't handle the fact he'd killed people in the line of duty, then it wasn't meant to be. It just amazed him how someone could be so smart, and have such stunted political views. However, it was probably because she was so enamoured with counter-culture. Who knows how many hippie bullshit pamphlets she'd read.

"Not like what? Zahira," he said,"every soldier is just 'doing their job'. I'm no different than the boys over in Vietnam."

She paused for a moment, staring down at her hands. "I guess," she mumbled, "I'm sorry, I just – I thought that since you weren't part of the military any more that'd you'd be against the whole war. I guess I'm just surprised you're not."

"It's fine. You don't have to like it. A lot of people don't," he sighed, "It's a dirty, hard job." He watched as her body tensed, and felt his chest tighten.

Taking a deep breath, Snake continued, "I left the military for my own reasons. Things went to hell in a hand basket, and I realized a lot of things weren't right."

"But you're still pro-war?"

"Someone has to protect the South Vietnamese from the North and the rebels," he answered with a shrug, "What? Do you expect the Viet Cong to just come in handing out _Mao's Little Red Book_ and call it day?"

"But they're just being lead by a pro-American government that doesn't actually care about the people. They want their country back."

Shrugging again, Snake replied, "You realize what goes into 'taking a country back', don't you?"

"I-I," she stuttered, "Well, there is supposed to be a whole uprising of the proletariat against the bourgoui-"

"That's the problem with you academic scholarly types," Snake laughed, bitterness colouring the edges of it, "when Marx wrote that, I doubt he realized that those uprisings have a very real body count."

Zahira leaned forward, placing one of her hands on his thigh. Glancing down, Snake pressed his lips into a thin line, unsure of how to react to her touch. "You say all of this, but you're still pro-war? I don't understand? You don't believe in uprisings, or taking back what belongs to the people because of the body count, but a war is okay?"

Shaking his head, Snake sighed and tried to keep the frustration that was growing inside of him at bay. "Now you're putting words in my mouth, Purple."

"What do you mean by that? Explain so I can understand, because I really don't get it."

Snake sighed again, this time gently grabbing her hand, "War isn't good. People die on all sides. But I fight to protect people, my country. I fight where I'm needed," he smiled sadly and shook his head. "At least, that's how it used to be."

A wave of relief washed over him as he saw Zahira's gaze on him soften. Her shoulders began to sink back down. He wanted to kiss her, but it felt too awkward after the conversation they just had. Snake kicked himself mentally – Vietnam wasn't the greatest topic for a date. He should have deflected more, but she said she wanted to understand him. That wasn't something he'd heard much of in his life. And if she really was going to keep her word, they would work through things together.

"Used to be?"

Freezing, Snake tried to think of a way to back out of the question, his eyes darting around the room. Memories of that last day with The Boss began seeping into his thoughts. He would breathe in, and he would breathe out, focusing on the motions of drawing in air to distract him He would never forgive himself if he had another breakdown in front of her.

Snake closed his eyes, the thoughts still pounding against the inside of his skull. It would pass. Leaning closer to her, he wrapped his arms around her. He rested his chin on the top of her head and tried to concentrate on the smell of her hair and the softness of her chest pressing against his. The thoughts would pass.

"You okay, Ish?" she said quietly, returning his embrace.

Opening his eyes, he pulled his head away so he could look her in the eyes, "Yeah, I'm alright." He forced a small pained smile on his face, "Let's go for that walk."

She placed a small kiss on his forehead, and nodded, "Alright."

Snake watched as she stepped away, trying to focus on the words she was saying – something about restaurants or particularly pretty vendor's stall in the market. But he couldn't hear her over The Boss' voice booming in his head. Taking another deep breath he stared down at the floor, eyes following the patterns of the wood grain.

It would pass.

 _A/N: Some translations!_

 _The French Snake says is "Whatever you say, miss" and "You're too feisty for your own good"._


	32. Chapter 32

_A/N: OH MY GOSH. I'M SO SORRY FOR THE SLOW UPDATE. I've been so busy with work. However I'm risking being late today to make sure this gets uploaded ASAP. Thank you so much for bearing with me. I've been trying to make these chapters longer for you guys and normally if work weren't so crazy it wouldn't slow me down that much, but some days I can only get a few sentences in ;_;_

 _Hope this chapter is okay though and thank you so much for reading._

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO**

To save themselves from the summer heat, Zahira and Snake wandered down the alleyways where the buildings could offer them shade. Snake was thankful for the roundabout route because it saved him from having to push through the crowds of people. It also let him hold Zahira's hand in peace, away from the curious eyes of the locals. He didn't learn that public displays of affection were frowned upon here from Zahira. Not at all. She didn't seem to care about the customs of the country, despite knowing them – instead, she just was, well... Zahira. Doing her carefree thing without a care in the world what anyone thought of her.

He smiled watching her thick wavy hair would bob up and down as she walked. It was pretty, but it would be beautiful if she just kept it her natural colour. But, that wasn't something he could even suggest to _Ms. Stubborn_ , herself. She would talk his ear off about how she was entitled to her hair colour, and how he could take his opinion and shove it up his ass. Maybe not in those exact words, but the message would be the same.

"So, Purple, where are we going this time?"

Turning her head to face him, Zahira flashed him a grin. "Well, I know you wanted to take me out for dinner, but I'd rather do something simpler. So, I figured we could go pick up some sandwiches or other easy food and go to the park."

Snake shook his head and laughed. It was strange how she didn't really want him to take her out. "What, you embarrassed to be seen at a nice place with me?" he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

"No!" she gasped, stopping abruptly in her tracks. "Ishmael, why would I be embarrassed being-"

"I dunno, Purple," he chuckled, "I thought girls liked the whole 'wine and dine' thing?"

Zahira giggled and shook her head. "Sure, a lot of girls do."

Raising his eyebrows, Snake sighed in frustration. Why'd her answer have to be so confusing? So if a lot of girls like it, that meant she did too – so why was she being so difficult?

"Okay, so you _are_ embarrassed."

"Oh my God, Ish," she groaned, "Stop. I'm not embarrassed." Trying her best, she stood up on the tips of her toes to give him a kiss. Being too short, however, she could only manage to place a small peck on the bottom of his chin. "I just like simple better – besides, do _you_ want to be stuck in some hot restaurant with no AC?"

A wide grin spread across his face, and he sighed, "Alright, you make a good point there. I don't really want that in this heat."

Taking a deep breath, Snake closed his eyes and kissed her. This time he tried to make sure he didn't bump noses with her. He let his hand reach up and cup the side of her face. Everything about her was soft, and it gave him those annoying butterflies. He just wanted to enjoy the moment without feeling nervous, or guilty.

As he felt Zahira pull away, his other arm instinctively wrapped around her waist and brought her back in. He wanted her close. He wanted to feel her pressed up against him.

"Ish," she said laughing as she broke the kiss. "What was that all of the sudden?"

Looking down, Snake could feel his face growing warm. "Um, I'm just glad I have someone smart like you?" he answered, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Mmm, you're cute. And since I'm smart, and have three pieces of paper to prove it – you can't disagree with me on that."

"I take it back," he laughed, "You have too much of an ego."

That earned him a playful punch in the back. A soft thud, really, against his battle hardened body. He smiled, the corners of his lips perking up ever so slightly. Nothing had really changed between them, they still had their stupid teasing. She was still his friend in all of this. Things weren't weird and serious – at least not yet.

"An ego?" Zahira protested, "I do not have an ego. I just know I'm right!"

"Whatever you say, princess," Snake laughed, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

Just as his lips were about to brush against her hair, the sound of a loud cough broke the moment, causing Snake to jolt back in surprise. His eyes caught sight of a middle-aged man staring at them with a mix of curiosity and disgust, and he quickly dropped his arm from Zahira's waist. Zahira pulled away, and tilted her head to see what caused Snake to become so jumpy.

Sighing, when she saw the reason, Zahira shook her head. "Ish, who cares? Clearly he's old and can't handle two people being in love," she said, her hand travelling up to his waist.

Snake swallowed and closed his eyes. _In love_. It was such a strong thing to say so early on. But the logistics of that didn't matter right now. Opening his eyes, Snake's lips pressed into a thin line. "Old or not, we have to be careful. The last thing I want is to piss off the wrong people because I ignored some social custom or –"

"Ish, hush. We're tourists here. It doesn't matter."

"But you're not a tourist you're –"

Trying to reach up to kiss him again, and failing miserably because of their vast difference in height, Zahira settled for the bottom of his chin again. "With you I can pass for one. Besides, I'm an American too at the end of the day. And if I want to kiss someone, or hold someone's hand walking down the street then I'm going to."

Letting out another sigh, Snake shrugged his shoulders in agreement. There was no use fighting her on it. Besides, she already stuck out like a sore thumb with her weird hair. If it wasn't the PDA that would get them looks, it would be that. _Little Miss Individuality_ always got her way somehow.

"I don't understand why you need to draw attention to yourself," he laughed, "Doing stuff like that makes you a target."

"Target?" she chuckled, "Ish, we're safe – this isn't a warzone or anything."

Sighing, Snake shook his head, "Anywhere can be a warzone if you're not careful."

He felt her arms wrap around him as she placed another small kiss on the bottom of his chin. She looked up at him and smiled. Her eyes had a new edge to them that he hadn't seen before. "With me, it won't," she breathed.

Snake tilted his head and tried to hold back a laugh. Ever the idealist. However, her hopeful, trusting perspective was refreshing. "Alright, Purple," he said with a small smile. It was strange having someone want to protect him. Normally it was the other way around.

* * *

By the time they had gotten to the park and found a place to sit Snake's stomach was grumbling, and all he could think about was the food that was waiting for him. He hadn't eaten much that morning, instead opting for his recent breakfast combo of late: a cigar and coffee. It wasn't healthy, but finding the energy to cook for himself had been hard, and it bothered him how much his stay at the hospital and the appointment with Dr. Saab still affected him.

Now that he thought about it, Zahira had really been saving his ass the last few weeks. The days he stayed at home he hardly ate, and as much as he liked to tell himself he'd been on top of keeping his place as clean as he wanted it to be – he hadn't. It wasn't like he had dishes piled sky high. After all, he wasn't really eating much. But his laundry was taking a hit, along with dusting. He grimaced; taking out all of the empty beer cans. It was a blessing he'd been going to Zahira's. If she saw how much he'd been drinking just to get himself calm enough to go to sleep every other night she'd flip.

"I think we've found a nice spot," Zahira said, taking a seat under the shade of an ash tree. Snake shook his head as she kicked off her shoes and crossed her legs, making herself comfortable in the grass when there was a bench not even five feet away. She was a true flower child. It suited her, sitting there with her hair falling over her shoulders, small feet poking out from under her long blue skirt.

"We should've brought a blanket," he laughed, finding a spot beside her. "Next time."

Shifting closer to him, Zahira giggled, kissing him on the cheek. "Nah, maybe you'll get grass stains on your butt and I'll have an excuse to stare at that fabulous ass of yours again."

"Fabulous ass?" Snake shook his head once again, letting out a low chuckle, "God, you're terrible Zahira. Being so frank for a lady."

"You'd be bored if I wasn't terrible. And besides, I call it like I see it."

Snake shrugged, unable to contain the grin spreading across his face. Zahira had such a self-satisfied smirk on her face. The way her eyes lit up mischievously sent his heart fluttering. "Too bad I'm wearing jeans today; they aren't as susceptible as a flimsy hospital gown."

"Of course not. I guess I'll just have to be sneaky then," she said, biting her lip.

"I'd like to see you try. I see everything, you know."

"Everything?"

"Yes, everything."

He felt her fingers brush softly against his knee. Looking down, he sighed happily and closed his eyes. He didn't deserve this moment, but here he was. Eyes opening, he let his right hand trace over hers. Small with slender fingers against his, large and calloused. How many times had she brought him down to Earth with them, gently cupping his face or pulling him into an embrace?

"What's up, Ish? You look all serious again," Zahira said.

"Nothing," he answered, perking his lips up into a quick smile. "Just hungry."

"Oh right, sorry," she giggled, "Probably should take that out of my bag."

"Probably," he said with a smile.

Watching her rummage through her bag, Snake couldn't help but notice the other little things about her. The rising and falling of her chest as she breathed, the sunlight coming through the leaves overhead highlighting her skin. Warmth filled his chest, and he inhaled deeply. He wanted to push her down in the grass and kiss her. Run his hands through her hair again, make her sigh.

Catching his thoughts wandering to those places, Snake's lips twitched up and he rubbed his mouth with his hand. Now wasn't the time or the place.

"There you go handsome," she said, handing him the simple sandwich he'd picked out for himself.

Taking it, Snake swallowed, trying to get his head out of the gutter. It had been a long time since he'd felt like this. Honestly, it was surprising him. He'd never been one for this kind of thing.

"Thanks," he said, glancing down at his food. The hunger he was feeling earlier hardly seemed to bother him now. Instead all he could focus on was the shape of her lips and how badly he wanted to touch her. He didn't understand where this was coming from. Moments ago, he was more than fine.

"Well," Zahira sighed, "it's not too long until we start making our trek to the Registan."

"What, we'll be going in another week or so?"

"Yup. I'm excited. It'll be good. Can't wait to actually start making solid dents into my research," she laughed. "It'll be good for you too, getting out of the city."

"What makes you say that?"

"I remember the first time we went for lunch together and I asked you to name three things that were beautiful," she said, smiling. "You said the sky, the mountains and the desert."

Almost choking on the first bite of his sandwich, Snake's eyes widened in surprise. Once he managed to compose himself again, he tilted his head. "You actually remembered that?"

"Yeah," she said, "Along with how every time you talk about being outdoors on your missions, your eyes always light up."

"Do they?"

"They do," she giggled, "it's nice to see."

Snake shook his head as a grin spread across his face. "Maybe I'm better off as some mountain man, hiding away from civilization. Only thing that sucks is the lack of showers."

"Oh hush, we'll find some beautiful waterfall and it'll be even better than a shower," she answered.

"Yes, because we can definitely find waterfalls in the desert, Zahira."

The thought of being with her, exposed under a waterfall was a nice fantasy. But it just reminded him of that time with EVA. How they huddled together around the fire for warmth. It had been right after his right eye had been shot out, and he still hadn't gotten used to having to compensate for his lack of depth perception. He remembered how she'd flirted with him, how he was still so oblivious and how he froze like prey when she'd kissed him. If he let his mind wander enough, he could still recall how her lips tasted. But enough was enough, he didn't really want to think about her while he was with Zahira. EVA belonged in the past now.

"Ugh, who says we'll be in the desert when that happens," she teased.

"You better hope we're in the desert. There's no way you'll last in a Siberian winter. Hell, I doubt you could even last a winter in sunny California," he chuckled.

"You're such a jackass. I'm not that fragile," she said pouting, "and besides you look nice and warm."

Snake smirked. "Do I now? Lucky you then."

* * *

If only that day with her could have lasted forever. Instead of sitting with her under the shade of the ash tree, he found himself sitting alone in the stale air conditioning of Mirwais Hospital for his appointment with Dr. Saab. It was his last appointment before going out into the Afghan wilderness, and he couldn't be more anxious to get it over with.

He had gotten there early in the morning, giving him enough time to hand the receptionist a cheque for all the medical expenses that he'd accrued earlier that month. A pretty sixty-nine dollars and ninety-five cents. It was a chunk of change he wasn't expecting to dish that much out for. That was at least a third of a month of his pension out the window. Hospitals truly were the worst.

Of course, it was his own fault for not thinking ahead. With his forged papers, he could have easily gotten travel insurance. But he didn't want anything that linked back to him. After all, it was one more piece of paper that could be used against him. However, against his monetary loss, he wished he just risked it.

Coming out into the hallway, she greeted him with the same polite tone she had the last time, and he begrudgingly followed her into her office.

"So," she said, sitting down behind her desk, "What have you been up to Mr. Sears?"

Her eyes bored into him curiously, and her mouth was set in a small smile. He couldn't get a read on her today, which set him on edge. Was she happy to see him, annoyed? Probably indifferent. Taking a seat in the armchair only made his desire to get out of their worse. Now he was committed to being stuck here for at least an hour.

"Nothing, really," he answered with an uneasy shrug.

"Nothing? Well, I hope you haven't been shutting yourself in, Mr. Sears. Getting out is important," Dr. Saab laughed, pulling out her clipboard from one of her desk drawers.

Snake rolled his eyes at her comment about 'getting out' and sighed. Sure he had his problems, but he was still trying to take care of himself. Besides, the walk to the liquor store technically counted as getting out of the house. And there was Zahira. There was their date.

"I've been going out," he said, looking at his feet. Dusty, well loved combat boots. "You been getting out of this dingy office, Doc?"

A flash of a smile crossed Dr. Saab's lips and she nodded. "Yes, I have. Took the kids out with the husband. It was nice time."

"You have a boy and a girl right? About seven or eight?" Snake replied, looking up for a moment. "Not to be weird. I just noticed the photo on your desk."

Her eyes widened with surprise for a moment, before she answered, "Yes, that's right. Kimiya is six and her brother, Amir, is turning eight in a few weeks." Placing her clipboard down on her desk, she continued, "You're observant."

Shrugging again, Snake shook his head. "Well, it was kind of necessary for my line of work."

"That's fair."

Dr. Saab leaned back in her chair, tapping the bottom of her pen against the clipboard. "So, you're getting out – did you do anything fun?"

Raising an eyebrow, he shook his head and sighed. She still loved to ask the same questions. And like Zahira, she loved to turn the conversation back on him. "Sure I did, I went out after all," he answered dryly.

Snake watched amused as Dr. Saab let out a little frustrated laugh. He could do the circular talk too, after all. "Yes. I know that. But specifically," she said, her voice rising slightly in pitch.

"Why do you need to know, Doc? I don't understand how this has anything to do with anything. Aren't you just here to make sure I'm not going to throw myself into traffic? Or convince me to take some shitty pills?" Snake's voice was calm. Sure, he was beginning to lose his patience but the lady was trying to do her job. And it wasn't her fault he was forced to see her – that was Dr. Nikolaev, but he still didn't like it at all.

"Mr. Sears, yes, that's one part of my job – the ensuring you don't hurt yourself or others – but knowing how you're doing in day-to-day life is important. It tells me how you're emotional state is. If you're doing well and coping then you don't have to come and see me as often," she said, trying to mask her annoyance with a grin. "And I know how much you _love_ coming to see me."

Sighing, Snake tilted his head back, "Great. I'm doing fine then. Why don't you just cut to the chase, ask about if I've had any nightmares or something?"

"Well, have it your way then Mr. Sears," she answered, clipping her words. "Did you do your homework?"

His eyes widened, and he found himself frozen in place. His mouth went dry. Homework. That was right. He could feel, Dr. Saab's unimpressed stare bore holes into him. Snake smiled sheepishly, breaking out of his trance. "Yeah, sure I did."

"Really. Start listing."

Snake could hear the blood rushing in his ears, as he tried together an answer. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He could bullshit this. All he had to think of was what Zahira liked about him.

"Er. I'm a quick learner?" he fumbled. It was something, he'd always been good at adapting, to new situations and well, as far as normal civilian life, Zahira seemed to think he was improving in the whole touchy-feely department.

"And?"

"I stick to my guns?" Another way of saying he was – he couldn't help but roll his eyes – stubborn.

"Okay, what else."

"Do I really have to?" he said, almost pleading with her.

However, she didn't have to say a word for him to know that the answer was "yes".

"Alright, er, I can hold my own in a kitchen and I'm tidy." Letting himself smile a little, he added, "That counts as two things doesn't it?"

Seeing that he was floundering, Dr. Saab shook her head and sighed, "Yes, that can count as two things."

"Great!" Snake laughed, "I knew you weren't all terrible."

"No. No I'm not. You might not see it, but I'm really trying to help." From the way she closed her eyes at the end of her sentence, it was as if she was silently adding _"desperately"._

"Number five, okay," he sighed before taking a deep breath. It took him a while to come up with an answer. It wasn't something he was sure he still had, but it still lingered as something he liked about himself from before everything went to hell. "Well, I used to protect people. I liked that about myself."

"Used to?"

Snake shivered slightly as Dr. Saab's question mirrored Zahira's the day they had talked about Vietnam.

"What do you mean by that?" she continued, readying her pen.

He closed his eyes, and tried to make peace with the fact that she was only recording this so she wouldn't have to ask him the same question a million times over. He still didn't like it. He still didn't want to answer, but her words about wasting time rang in his head. After all, he owed her that – she did cut to the chase. It was ballsy, something he didn't expect from a meek looking thing to do.

"Can I think about how to answer that?" he said quietly, glancing down at the floor.

"Of course."

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Snake leaned forward and began, "When I first joined the Army, they gave me a gun and they sent me to another country and they told me I was helping innocent people." He took another deep breath and looked up at Dr. Saab, "Because I was helping these people in the one way I knew how. Fighting for their freedom, I was bringing them closer to having their lives back by pushing out the bastards that wanted them dead because of stupid ideological differences." Laughing, Snake shook his head, "It's so stupid what people will kill each other over. Really what difference does it make if your market is free or if your market is controlled by the government? Either way each system is flawed. You have people who fall through the cracks and can't eat on either side."

"It's sad that's what happens," Dr. Saab said. "But what changed?"

"I fought in Korea when I was a grunt. I climbed through the ranks because I'm good at what I do," he said with a shrug. "Climbing through the ranks put me further and further away from the battlefield. At least in the sense that I wasn't on the frontlines anymore. I'd be doing reconnaissance. I ended up in the Green Berets. My work became more specialized. I was still protecting people for sure. It was all for the bigger picture. Except when you realize you're not protecting who you thought you were."

Dr. Saab pushed her glasses up, and scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. "Explain. I have a feeling I know what you're getting at, but I don't want to assume."

"Well, you spend your whole career thinking you're protecting the American people, making sure that the Cold War doesn't go hot and you think that you're doing good by them. You think you're doing good by yourself. It let me sleep at night." He sighed again. "I could go through whatever situation was thrown at me. I would take a bullet for the President, die for my country. Except-," he paused, closing his eyes as the same horrific vision of The Boss' body bleeding out in front of him burned in his mind.

"Except," he continued, voice quieter, "You realize you're not protecting the every-day person anymore. All you're protecting are the greedy bastards who sit at the top of the food chain. And how they throw away lives when it becomes inconvenient rather than expose themselves and their mistakes. How you'll be their pawn in their stupid game of chess for whatever for economic and ideological supremacy. The further up you go, the more dirty work you do. You become more valuable and expendable."

"More valuable and expendable? Interesting concept there."

"For example," Snake said, "You're put on a near impossible mission. You complete it, you're hailed a hero, you boost morale, you get them their needed intel. You're valuable to them because you're good at what you do. They give you medals, better pay, the works. But you stop being human to them. You become a tool, you're expendable. Something goes wrong, your cover's been blown – now they're sending someone to kill you. You're an old dog that needs to be put out to pasture."

Dr. Saab remained quiet, save for the noise of her scribbling down something on her clipboard.

"You see, you get a young grunt, barely fits his boots, who meets his untimely death. He gets a time slot in the news, maybe. People get to know his story. He's still human. People mourn over the wasted potential and what could have been. You get to where I'm at, and no one cries for you, except maybe your men. You get swept under the rug of history."

Perhaps what he was saying wasn't entirely true. Perhaps what he was saying him jaded and bitter over what happened over The Boss. How she was painted as a war criminal. How no one would know the truth of how big a sacrifice she made. How he shook no one's hand at the award ceremony where they gave him his Distinguished Service Cross because he knew how they'd used him. He knew how they used her.

"All that might of happened. But what says you can't still protect people or help them?"

Snake laughed bitterly, "How? I can't go back to-"

"And I'm not saying you should," Dr. Saab interrupted, "But maybe think on a smaller scale. What are little things you can do."

"I don't know."

And with a small smile, she said, "That's your next homework."

Rolling his eyes, Snake's lips perked up into a wry grin. "Sounds great, Doc. You know how much I love homework."

"That's why I assign it."

"Great."

"Alright, so one last thing before we wrap up – nightmares, how have they been?"

As soon as that question left her mouth, Snake's mood plummeted. "I'm managing."

"Managing how?"

"Managing by taking long walks," he said, silently adding _to the liquor store._ But that would end when he and Zahira were out in the boondocks. Something that made him both relieved and terrified.

Putting her pen down, Dr. Saab stretched out her arms. "You've done a lot better today Mr. Sears. I'm glad you're finally opening a little." Snake sighed in relief that she wasn't pushing him for any more answers. There was only so much he could do in one day.

A small blush crossed his face, and he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Well, I promised my girl I would-"his hands immediately flew over his mouth.

"My girl?" Dr. Saab chuckled. "You have a girlfriend Mr. Sears?"

"Yeah," he answered sharply, "A girl... who is a friend. A female friend. A friend."

"Well at least I know when you're going out you are doing something fun," she added with a wink.

* * *

Zahira waited for the phone to ring. Knowing that it was Ishmael's psych appointment, she had made him promise that he would phone her and go over how it went. Even if it was just a short, "it was fine". Although he was resistant to the idea at first, he eventually conceded after she compared it to the time he made her phone him the night she walked home from his place alone. The tiny actions might have been insignificant to someone else, but as far as Ish went, it was a huge change.

He was actually trying.

She was earning his trust.

So, when the phone finally did ring, Zahira practically jumped for joy when she heard the deep, gruff baritone of his voice on the other line.

"How did it go?" The words practically flew out of her mouth, as she played with the phone's springy cord.

"Alright," he said stiffly.

Zahira tensed, biting her lip. She prepared for the worst. For something like last time.

"She wants to meet you."

Taking two slow, long blinks, Zahira wrapped the phone cord around her index finger. "Wait, what?"

"My shrink," he sighed, "wants to meet you."

It took her a few seconds to register what he was saying. This was good. He was opening up! He was talking.

"That's awesome!" she laughed. "I'd love to meet her."

"You would?" His voice grew higher at the end. The confusion in his voice made her want to poke and squish his cheeks.

"Well, I mean, only if you're comfortable with that."

"I," he paused. "Sure. I figured if I just did what she says I won't have to go there anymore faster."

Zahira sighed. Well, maybe she had put her expectations a little too high. But, at least he was being honest. "Ish, don't treat this like it's a race. If you need this to help you, then take your time with it."

"I'm fine Zahira. Besides, this is costing me an arm and a leg," he laughed. "I'm already out an eye; I'd like to hold on to my other body parts."

"Fair, but just remember –"

"If you're going to say something like 'health is wealth' or something – I will hang up."

"Not even close, but thanks for the idea, Ish," she giggled.

She could just see him rolling his eyes by the sound of the sigh he gave her.

"But you'll come?"

Nodding, Zahira couldn't contain the grin spreading across her face, and the giddy feeling filling her head. "Of course I will. I love you."

There was silence on the other end for a while. For a moment, she started to worry. Maybe she killed him? Gave him a heart attack from the affection overload. She had to remember Ish didn't do well with things like that.

"I-I, uh," he finally stuttered, "you're important to me and thanks for being there."

"No worries. Now don't get too flustered."

"I'm not flustered!"

"Whatever you say," she giggled. "I'll talk to you later."

Hanging up, she ran to her couch, sat down and started laughing. God, he was funny. She was just so proud of him. He was really taking their talk seriously. Maybe it was a little too good to be true. Maybe she was throwing herself headfirst into something crazy. But she couldn't help but feel that it was the start of something good.

Maybe it was the start of change.

 _A/N: Some notes! $69.50 in the 60's had roughly the same buying power as $500 today. Just in case anyone was wondering why Snake would freak out over 60 bucks._


	33. Chapter 33

_A/N:_ Holy! Here it is. This was a fun one to write. Once again thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and followed. ;_; Seriously, all of you people are amazing.

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE**

All his bags were packed and ready to go. Standing in front of his bedroom window, Snake took a long look at the familiar view of the city sprawl and the dirt road that lead to his home. It felt surreal to be on the move again, after staying in the same place for so long. Or at least a long time by his standards. He'd grown used to the area, and actually felt somewhat sad to be leaving – even if he'd be back in two weeks when Zahira and he came in to town for a restock on supplies. Taking a drag of his cigar, Snake smiled contently. He was happy he convinced her that two weeks in the field and one week back in town was a good schedule. It wasn't that he didn't believe Zahira could adapt, because he knew she could, but it would be difficult. Even for someone with his experience, it was going to be a little tricky. Deserts were a hard terrain to deal with. Sandstorms, boiling during the day and freezing at night, little cover, difficult to find a naturally occurring source of water, no large prey animals. Despite knowing that they were going in with supplies, he still couldn't help but treat it as if they only had what he was carrying. It was always better to prepare for the worst than to expect life to go smoothly.

Closing his eyes, he took another drag, savouring the taste of his smoke. A cigar before a mission had been his good luck ritual since the time he could finally afford to buy them on his own. Should anything happen, at least he had indulged himself. Today, it was also helping him calm his nerves. Going into the desert had been one thing before he and Zahira became a 'thing' but now it added a whole other complication he didn't think of before: What if she wanted to share a bed with him? And if she did, and he had a nightmare, what would she do?

He took another drag, shaking his head. More importantly, what would he do unknowingly?

He'd woken up screaming before, covered in sweat. On a particularly bad occasion, he'd woken up throwing punches on his mattress. What if she pressed against him, and in his dream saw her as an enemy? What if he saw her as Volgin? He swallowed hard – he didn't even want to think about that.

Suddenly, the sound of loud car horn filled the air, snapping Snake out of his thoughts. Placing a hand on the windowsill, he leaned forward, looked around, narrowing his eyes until he spotted Zahira's purple hair from inside a Jeep.

It was that time already.

Slipping on his backpack, he made his way down the stairs. His heart was still pounding and the cigar wasn't helping him anymore. It was too late to run for the hills now.

"Morning, Ish!" Zahira called, stepping out of the vehicle.

Her smile stopped him in his tracks. Seeing her standing there, ready to go, her easy energy radiating outward, made his stomach drop with guilt. How could he have been so selfish? He should have taken the medicine Dr. Saab tried to give him to help him sleep.

"Mornin', sunshine," he drawled, taking a puff of his cigar, the smoke pluming in front of his face.

She looked up at him, and laughed, "You and your cigars. I still don't know how you can afford them so often. Aren't they like a hundred dollars a box?"

"You're something else. First thing you do is ask me about my cigars. Not anything about if I'm ready to go, or how I'm doing. But my cigars," he chuckled, ruffling her hair. She was clearly unamused by the gesture, and immediately tried swatting his hand away.

"Alright, alright," she giggled, "I'm sorry. You can stop it now."

"Can I?"

"Ish, I swear to God if you don't stop I'll-"

"What? Garden me to death with your botany powers?"

Shooting him a glare full of determination, her voice rose, "Ish, there is a shovel in the back of the Jeep, and I will hit you upside the head with it if you don't stop."

"That's if you can actually get to the back of the Jeep," he laughed. Content with thoroughly mussing up Zahira's hair, he let his hand fall to his side.

Zahira's hands rushed to the top of her head as she tried to fix the mess he'd created. Her wavy hair was definitely frizzy now. "Ish, I swear to God, do you know what a pain in the ass getting my hair to look-"

"Nah, you look cuter now."

Sighing, Zahira shot him an unamused grin. "You're such a jerk."

"Not like it's gonna matter in the boonies, Purple."

She blinked slowly, before punching his arm playfully, "Just get in the car. I'm driving."

Doing as he was told, Snake clambered into the passenger seat, setting his bag down between his legs. He closed his eyes and sighed, feeling a little bit more relaxed from before. However, the fear of his nightmares getting the better of him still lingered at the back of his mind.

The _clunk_ of the door slamming shut signalled that Zahira was in the car. His eyes opened, as she tossed him a road map, falling squarely on his lap. "You're my navigator. Once we hit our first pit stop we can switch."

Nodding, Snake smiled and opened up the map and began finding his bearings. It would take them at least three or four days to get out of civilization, if they went non-stop, and maybe another day to find a good place to set up shop. Things sure were about to get interesting, that was for sure. Putting the keys into the ignition, Zahira started up the car and promptly started changing the dial on the radio. From the way her lips were pressed together, he could tell she was dissatisfied. She liked Joan Baez, so she was probably looking for a station that played hippie-dippy music. Good luck with that in Afghanistan.

"We could listen to the news too," Snake piped up, looking up from the road map. "You could help me translate."

"The news is so depressing though," Zahira sighed. "Riot in Kabul here, economic downturn there. More death in Vietnam. Drought in Farah – I'd rather listen to music and just be happy."

"Fair enough," he shrugged, "You just seemed to be having a hard time finding something."

"Well, when you drive we can listen to the news. There has to be at least one good music station."

Snake sighed, and smiled contently. She was a funny one.

After several minutes of switching stations, it seemed Zahira had found one to her liking. However, as soon as the opening chords of the song played, Snake closed his eyes and groaned. "No, not this song," he begged.

Glancing over at him, Zahira laughed, shaking her head. "What, you don't like it?"

" _Hate it_."

"Congratulations, this is now our song," she giggled.

Opening his eyes, Snake shook his head slowly, "No. No, it is not."

"Oh yes, it totally is."

And just as if it couldn't get any worse, Zahira, as if to grate on his nerves even more began singing along with the opening verse, loudly and slightly off key.

 _"They say we're young and we don't know_

 _We won't find out 'till we grow."_

"Zahira, please, I'm begging you. I hate this song so much."

 _"Well I don't know if all that's true_

 _'Cause you got me, and baby I got you."_

Closing his eyes, Snake sighed and rubbed his forehead in utter annoyance and desperation. "Can't we listen to something else? I have an Elvis tape if you really want to listen to music."

Zahira just shook her head and laughed, tapping her thumb on the steering wheel to the beat. "Why though. I like this song. It's corny and cheesy in all the right places."

"Yeah, and the radio plays it at least twenty times a day," Snake answered, resigning himself to his fate. "You think I'd be safe from it here."

"Music's universal, baby," she giggled, "It doesn't matter where you're from. If a song has a good beat and talks about peace and love, everyone's going to dig it."

He took a moment to look at her, smiling to himself as he took in how her hair fell loosely around her shoulders. "You should hear yourself talk," he laughed. "You sound like a hippie."

"Never said I wasn't one."

"Great," Snake said shaking his head. "You tell me how little hippie princess over here ended up with a grumpy, old GI."

"Maybe the little hippie princess wanted to get the grumpy, old GI out of his funk and show him life is groovy."

"Jesus Christ, Zahira. You're something else."

"Well," she answered with a grin. "I got you, babe."

They fell into a pattern of small talk and comfortable silences as they made their way through Kandahar and out to the open road. Despite the calming affect Zahira had on him, he would still find his mind wandering to places he didn't want to think about. When the thoughts started becoming too much, he would just start up a conversation. He was surprising himself – he hadn't been this talkative since the mission.

Something about being on the road for hours on end made talking easy.

His hands rested on the steering wheel, and he kept a leisurely speed, if they kept up the pace they were going, they could reach the next small town by nine, and hopefully find a place to stay. If not, they'd have crash in the car. He'd already formulated that he would stay up all night if they had to sleep in the car. Thanks to all the endurance training, he knew he could stay up for two days, three if he really pushed himself, before his body would start giving out on him. If it came to that, he prayed that he'd be too exhausted to dream.

He couldn't be scared of the inevitable, instead he needed to formulate a plan for damage control.

"So, Zahira," he said, "What made you become a botanist?" Having only one good eye forced him to keep focused, taking away the luxury of tilting his head to glance at her while he spoke. He was thankful he could still drive, even if his peripheral vision was shot on the right side. He made up for it by relying heavily on his mirrors. But, not being able to make eye contact with her, or look over, in some ways, made it easier to carry on a conversation.

"Well, I've always loved plants – flowers especially since I was little," she answered, her voice light.

"That makes sense; I remember you mentioned you'd garden with your mother, right?"

"That's right," she said, "about the only thing we could really do together without getting into a fight."

Snake's lips perked up, and he shook his head. "That's good though, at least you have common ground on something."

"I guess," she laughed, "But I just always loved watching things grow, and my mum and I would track how tall they'd get or how many flowers each of them bloomed. We'd write everything down in a little notebook in English, Pashto and Turkish – except it was Dad who helped with the Turkish."

Taking a deep breath, he could feel his chest tighten. It wasn't that he was jealous of her childhood or her family, but there was a longing that he wished he had what she grew up with. A mother and a father that actually loved each other. Stability. The Boss had been his family, but she was dead now, and it was his fault for idolizing her so much that he wanted to follow her footsteps and join the Army.

She probably would have been fine if he decided to do something else with his life, in her own stern way, she always encouraged him. But he wanted to emulate her, fight for other people, fight for his country.

"Even when I got older, Mum and I would have our day we'd go to the florist's. Pick up seeds, or bulbs and no matter what happened, no matter how crazy I'd been, on those days we'd drop everything and start fresh."

"Good way to resolve conflict," Snake answered absently. Thinking about The Boss always seemed to drag him down. At least now, he was starting to become more stable again. If he didn't count the nightmares, he hadn't had a full on breakdown since the time Zahira was there. Instead, he found himself going vacant. Nothing feeling quite real, but nothing feeling like a dream either. It was better than that disgusting display of emotion.

"I suppose," Zahira answered in agreement. "I'm not sure if we ever really resolved anything though. It was more of a truce," she laughed. "For one day we'd forget about what drove us crazy."

"Fair enough."

"But, I guess that love of going to the florists, always having plants in my room to take care of, always being excited to watch them grow, and being so impatient for them to just _grow_ , probably helped kick start my journey into botany," she continued. "Plants are like kids – except without the screaming and the mess, and to be honest they're more independent anyway."

Letting out a small chuckle, Snake couldn't help but smile at her comparison. "Not sure about the more independent, but I'll give you the screaming and mess."

"They are. Plants adapt, sure not as fast as we can, but if you cross enough genes and breed for certain qualities, they can be very resilient. Besides, all plants need is water and some sunlight and they photosynthesize everything. No need to have someone dote over them every waking hour –"

"Zahira, you're something else."

"Sure I am," she giggled. "But I don't see you complaining."

Snake gave her a small shrug. "Well, I doubt you'd let me get away with that, anyway."

"True," she said. He could hear the smile in her voice, and he wished he could turn his head for a second just to see her smile. "Anyway, my grumpy GI, got any stories for me?"

Pressing his lips together, he furrowed his brow and tried to remember any lighthearted stories that he could share. "Sorry princess, I'm drawing blanks," he answered.

"Aww," she whined, "not even one?"

"Well, you've exhausted me on most of the funny ones. I doubt you'd want to hear my horror stories," he answered, grimacing.

"It doesn't have to be a war story. What about your first kiss?"

Shaking his head, he laughed, "I'm not spilling the beans on my first kiss unless you do it first."

"Ugh, fine. Be that way."

"You're not one for tact are you, Purple?"

"Neither are you, last time I checked."

The corners of his mouth perked up and he sighed, "No, not at _all_. My lack of discretion made me such a _valuable_ asset to the Berets."

"Oh enough. You're as dense as a doorknob and you know it," she giggled. "Now pull over, I want my story."

"For someone who likes watching the grass grow, you sure are impatient, Purple."

Snake concentrated on the road in front of him, as Zahira rattled off how she didn't just 'watch the grass grow' and how botany was a serious science. Crossing genes, making hybrids, more mumbo jumbo he didn't really care for. Impatience being a virtue because her team back at the Botanical Society were working on engineering plants that could grow faster and yield more produce to meet supply and demand. She was passionate – that was for sure.

It was easy to drift off to the side of the road, and switch seats. He could have stopped dead in the middle and they could have done the same thing. They were probably the only car for miles. Glad for the break, Snake pushed the seat back and stretched out his legs. Driving was exhausting, especially trying not to lose focus because all the scenery was the same. Sand, rocky outcrops and more sand.

"Alright, spill the beans. I want to know," Zahira demanded as she fiddled with the radio dial.

"You first." He closed his eyes and smirked. She wasn't going to get a word out of him unless she made good on her end of it.

"A girl can't keep her secrets?" she said, pouting.

"Not if you want to hear one of mine," he chuckled, "I need collateral, princess."

Hearing her sigh, Snake opened his eyes and tried his best to hide the smug grin creeping across his face. He liked it when he won.

"Fine," she answered, bringing the car back onto the road. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her shaking her head, laughing softly to herself. He smiled for a moment – she was cute.

"Where do I start," she sighed.

"Beginning's a good place."

Shooting him an unamused glance, Zahira laughed, "Thank you, Oh Knowledgeable One, what would I do without you?"

Snake shrugged. "I dunno. You tell me."

"You're," she paused for a moment, trying to hold back a grin. "You're a dork."

If they weren't driving, he would have taken the opportunity to completely mess up her hair again. Instead, he had to be content with just sitting there. But they'd have to stop somewhere, and he could exact his revenge then.

"Anyway, first kiss," she said, biting lips, "God, this is so embarrassing." The beginnings of a blush coloured her cheeks pink. "Well, I was in the eleventh grade, and the boy's name was Jeremy." Biting the insides of her cheeks, she sighed, "Oh, Jeremy Furber."

Snake watched in amusement at how flustered she was getting. It was unusual to see her this out of her element, when normally she was so sure of herself. She glanced at him for a moment, almost hoping he'd help her out of the situation she'd gotten herself into.

"He was a nice enough guy. Cute. Dark hair, dark eyes and a wicked smile. He was a drop out working at the local gas station, but he'd saved up for one kick ass motorcycle," she laughed nervously. "It was a beautiful bike, and naturally, my fourteen year old self was smitten. I mean he was older, seventeen, eighteen? Maybe he was twenty?"

Dark hair, and rough around the edges. Snake chuckled to himself – he was starting to notice a pattern. He might've been oblivious to her advances on him, but he could read people. And he was starting to get a feel for her and how she acted. Hearing this story, definitely was starting to solidify why she might be attracted to him.

"Anyway, not many of the guys at school were into me. I mean, I was the kid sister because I skipped three grades. But, I figured that he didn't really know me, and I was starting to experiment with make-up. And I thought, what the hell, let's try and look older and see where it goes."

"A little risky, don't you think?" he said, trying to hide the concern in his voice.

"Yeah," she sighed, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "I was pretty stupid. But, at least nothing went wrong." She was quiet for a while, lost in her thoughts. "So, it became my after school ritual to go see Jeremy. I mean, he was always polite with me, and I feel so bad for how much I pushed him."

"You were fourteen, don't feel that bad."

"I know, but still, can you imagine having this dumb little girl come to annoy you every day?"

"Alright, I stand in solidarity with the poor guy. That would be annoying – but something obviously happened because you're telling me this story," Snake said.

"Yep," she laughed with the same nervousness as before. "One day, I decided that when I went to visit that I was sick and tired of waiting and today would be the day I got my kiss."

Hearing that, Snake couldn't help but burst out in laughter. "God, that is something you would do. I gotta' hand it to you, when you want something, you really do go out and get it."

"I don't know whether I should say thank you, or punch you in the arm, Ish."

"Then do both." Snake answered with a grin.

Zahira sighed and pressed her lips together. "I might take you up on that, once we hit town." Shifting slightly in her seat, she continued, "Anyway, I march in there one sunny Wednesday afternoon, and grab some small candy to buy. Once he was done ringing it up, I handed him a dollar bill, and waited for him to count back my change." She paused again, clearly getting more and more embarrassed as the story started to near its end. "The poor guy counts back my change and he tells me to have a good day, not to stay out too late – since we did talk here and there – and what do I do? I lean over, pushing myself up a little using the counter and kiss him square on the lips. He didn't know what to expect. And of course, as luck would have it, his boss happened to walk in from the stock room, so he got a great "kiss your girlfriend later" comment. "

"Jeez, Zahira. Way to throw someone through the ringer."

She looked at him, her eyebrows scrunched together and her lips pursed into an angry pout. "That wasn't even the worst of it. My dad got his cigarettes from there and knew the shop owner pretty well. So can you imagine how well that blew over for me when it got casually mentioned I was 'dating' Jeremy."

"Well," he sighed, "hate to break it to you – but it kind of was your own fault, Purple."

"I _know_ that. I just felt bad because then my mom made a huge stink of it, and made dad talk to the poor guy about the whole mess. And once Dad heard the full story I was grounded for two weeks. No going out, I had to formally apologize to Jeremy. Plus I had to listen to an _informative_ lecture from Mom, while Dad sat there painfully and listened," she laughed. "I was such a wild child, I have no clue how they put up with me, honestly."

"No kidding," Snake replied, silently grateful for the fact he wasn't Zahira's parents. "Your poor mother."

"Oh hush, I'll admit I totally took advantage of my dad being the easy-going one, so she ended up as the enforcer of order - but the world was too big not to explore," she said. "But you got your story, and I hope I never have to think about that mess again."

Sighing deeply, Snake closed his eyes. "Guess it's my turn." If she could embarrass herself in front of him, he could open up too. After all, he did get the collateral he wanted. It was only fair. She was uncomfortable, and now it was his turn in the hot seat. He could feel his chest tighten and the butterflies in his stomach. Opening up never used to be hard like this. Sure, it was a story he didn't normally share to begin with, but he liked the girl. This should've been easier.

"I had just turned twenty when I landed in Korea, and I was stationed at a little camp out in the middle of nowhere outside of Dongducheon. It was a real shit hole. The tents always leaked when it rained, I had to change my socks every four hours to keep myself from getting sick. Our mess captain was awful at his job. Sometimes I would smoke while eating just to get the taste out of my mouth," he began.

His mouth felt dry. "War is messy. And although we were trying to help the situation, there's always that chaos, I guess." He didn't know how to explain without getting crass. Narrowing his eyebrows in concentration, he sighed again.

"Even your first kiss is a war story?" he heard Zahira say quietly.

"Yeah," he grunted, rubbing the side of his face with his palm. "I mean, I did join up at fifteen."

"True." The hint of sadness that coloured her voice threw him for a loop. "This is going to end badly isn't it? I'm sorry, I-"

"Zahira, not every memory in my head is a bad one," he answered. "Sure, it might not be perfect, but," he sighed again, "I tried my best."

"So, what happened?"

"There was this girl," he said, starting slowly. "She was probably sixteen, too young and too bright to be doing what she was doing. But that's war for you." He shrugged, biting his lower lip. "Prostitution around military bases was common. More common than it should have been. And it pissed me off. Every time I'd hit town, I'd see this same girl chasing down servicemen near the bar I'd go to."

Looking up, he saw Zahira staring intently on the road ahead of her. "At first I didn't think much of it. I was tired. I wanted a drink and the bartender didn't give a fuck if I wasn't twenty-one. But, I kept seeing her, and one day, something felt off," he said. "I remember noticing how her cheek looked puffy, and the skin around her left eye was a different shade. Obviously, a bruise covered up with make-up. And I was so angry."

Snake began to worry that he was alienating Zahira with his story. His life didn't really fall under any sort of normalcy. Grimacing, he regretted not making something up. Something that she could relate to. Instead, he had his life as a soldier. Surrounding him with the worst of humanity – and its best, when the time was right.

"I was fed up. I couldn't get her out of the situation she was in. Just like she couldn't get me out of going on the battlefield. But, I could buy her time – and even if it was only for an hour. I could keep her safe."

Finally, Zahira spoke up, "Ish..."

"Her real name was Ju-mi, but most of the men in the area called her Dolly. I remember the first time I ever," he stopped in his tracks, blushing. "Well, just imagine how nerve-wracking it was trying to convince a girl who's language you hardly speak that you _don't_ want to sleep with her... when it's, well, her job. That you only want to talk."

"How did you manage that?"

"I got really good at charades, really fast," he answered, rubbing his lips with his hand. "And man, was she confused." His laugh was choppy and awkward. "But eventually she understood. We became friends of sorts. Every time I was in town, I'd take her out. She'd be free of scumbags for a while. I ended up learning most of the Korean I know now from her."

She turned her gaze to him for a brief moment before focusing back on the road. Her gaze softened. "That's really sweet of you. I didn't think-"

"What?"

"You just surprise me," she answered with a small smile. "You're a big softie."

"No," he sighed. "No, I'm not."

"Uh-huh. I'm going to make you an award – 'World's Most Unlikely Teddy-Bear'," she giggled.

"Thanks Zahira, I'll pin it to my uniform," he laughed.

"What happened to Ju-mi, though? She didn't die did she? And you never told me how you kissed." She didn't miss a beat.

"No, she didn't die. At least I don't know if she did or not – I was transferred to another camp, closer to the front. And it's _really_ that important that you know?"

"A deal's a deal."

Snake closed his eyes and sighed. She was right. He still remembered it. Not even really a kiss. It was there one fraction of a moment and gone the next. A thank you. He remembered how weird it was for him, and how he felt guilty that he couldn't do more for her. The time he spent with her was just putting a band-aid on the wound. It didn't fix the problem. And even in the limited ways they could communicate, it pained him knowing the life she was stolen from. A family that didn't know if she was alive or dead. Friends she didn't know if she'd see again.

"It was really strange, just because I always viewed her as a little sister. I even called her little sister. I didn't see her in a romantic light at all. One day when we were together, she asked me to close my eyes. And I was immediately suspicious because she'd never ask me to do that before." Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he looked down at his hands. "But her voice was sincere, and the way she looked at me," he paused for a moment, "I can't really describe it."

The rocky desert whirred past, as he glanced out the window. "Anyway, I listened to her and closed my eyes. Expecting something like a small charm, or maybe a candy to stash away for when I was out on the field. So, when I felt her lips on mine-" he chuckled to himself, before continuing, "I was really, really surprised. I jumped back so fast I almost tripped over myself."

"Ish, that's so sweet. Poor girl though, probably felt a little rejected."

Cheeks growing warm, Snake shook his head, "Like I said, she was a little sister to me. She knew that. The kiss was her way of saying thanks. If she did have any feelings for me, she knew from the beginning I wouldn't be able to reciprocate."

"Still doesn't stop a girl from dreaming," Zahira laughed.

"Well, besides the point, it wasn't long after that I was transferred closer up to the thirty-eighth parallel, so maybe she knew she wouldn't see me."

"Not selling your case here, Ish."

"Oh shut up, next time I'm not telling you any story if you're just going to put your spin on what happened." Snake let out a dry laugh, before glancing at his hands again. "How long until town, do you think?"

"I just passed a road sign an hour back, so not much longer, I think."

Thinking about lying down on a bed made him sigh. Sitting in a car for hours on end, even with a break here and there, was exhausting. A room to himself would make it easier for him to sleep too.

Right on schedule, they arrived around nine, the sky dark. It was an interesting scene, with light coming from some of the larger buildings, clearly set up with electricity, and darkness, or a muted warm glow from the smaller. Towns like these were his favourite. Away from the hustle and bustle of the city, he could actually feel calm. Breathe.

Stepping out into the open, Snake grabbed his old backpack, and slung it over his shoulders. The familiar weight was comforting. He sighed, wishing that he could put on his fatigues again. He felt more comfortable in those than trying to pass for a civilian.

"That's all you have?" Zahira said, grabbing a backpack, and several other bags.

Taking one look at her, he sighed deeply. _Civilians_. "I'm going to have to teach you how to pack. This is a disgrace."

"Ouch, way to put it gently."

"I'm serious. How you've packed is inefficient. You might as well brought a suitcase," he said gruffly.

Pouting, Zahira looked up at him. "I thought a suitcase would be too bulky. That's why I put everything else that wouldn't fit in my main bag into smaller ones."

He sighed again, closing his eyes. "Alright. The intention was there. I'm sorry this is my training kicking in – this is training people in the military kicking in."

"You trained people?" Zahira 's eyes were wide.

Waving it off, Snake opened his eyes again. "Yeah, I mean I was a Green Beret. I didn't sit on my ass all day when there was downtime."

"Well, now I know why your lectures were good," she giggled.

Stopping for a moment, Snake took a moment to process what she'd just said, before a huge grin spread across his face. "I, well... thanks." She had to be stoking his ego there. He always had a hard time toning down the 'command voice' and tailoring those lessons to suit civvies.

Finding a place to stay took no time at all. It was clearly marked with a sign in Pashto, and even without the sign, it was the second largest building in the town. Stepping inside, Snake was glad to be greeted by the innkeeper. His mind wandering as he let Zahira sort out their accommodations. It wasn't often he could just let himself check out. The day had taken a lot out of him, and he was human, loathe as he was to admit it.

However, he was brought out of his thoughts when Zahira looked over at him, biting her lips, the innkeeper eyeing him curiously. He smiled awkwardly. Not every place was America.

Following the innkeeper, up the stairs, Zahira slowed her pace to catch up with him. "So, as far as this guy knows... you're my cousin – through marriage – who's helping me on my scientific research," she whispered quickly.

"We're what?"

"Just go with it. Trust me, all this makes it easier. I'll be in the room next door," she sighed.

Knowing when it was a good time to shut up, Snake held his tongue. It was for a night, but that was the lamest cover he'd ever heard. Cousins? By marriage? No wonder the innkeeper was looking at him funny.

None of it truly mattered though when he finally did get to his room. It was small, with a single bed and not much else, but it worked. A room was just to sleep in, and they would be gone first thing in the morning. Setting his bag down, he unlaced his boots before allowing himself to flop down on the bed. The mattress was hard, and he smiled. Just like the good old days in the barracks.


	34. Chapter 34

_A/N: Hey guys! Super sorry for the slow update. This chapter was a little tricky for me to write just because I wanted to make everything was natural and stuff. I hope it's okay and thank you so much for sticking with this fanfic._

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR**

"So, what was that last night?" Snake said, shambling into the driver's seat for another long day on the road. He glanced at Zahira before starting the Jeep, watching her get inside.

Looking up at him, she scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. "What was what, Ish?" She bit her lips as he sighed. Then it finally kicked in. "Oh you mean the 'cousins' thing?"

"Yeah," he laughed, "worst cover I've heard in years."

"Well, what else was I supposed to tell him? The other option is that you're my husband," she laughed, finally getting settled.

Snake's eyes widened in a moment of fear. _Husband_. It would make sense, after all the further they went from the main cities, the more conservative things were going to get. Still, even if it was only a cover, it made him nervous. "You couldn't have just told him the truth, minus the questionable parts? Sometimes honesty gets you a long way."

The tone of Zahira's voice oozed with sarcasm, and even if he couldn't see her expression, since he was focused on the road ahead, he could tell she was looking at him like he was a complete and total idiot. "Yes, Ish. Because an unmarried woman traversing rural Afghanistan with a man she's not related to is going to go over really well."

An obvious point. He knew that. "But there wasn't anything else you could have told him?"

"Could you have come up with anything better?"

Biting the insides of his cheeks, Snake sighed and shook his head. "I'll come up with something," he grumbled.

"Alright, babe," she giggled, "can't wait to hear it."

 _Babe_. It was the second time she called him that. A small shy smile came to his lips. It felt so out of place, and he couldn't help feeling guilty. It was worse than her calling him, 'Ish'.

"Anyway, how'd you sleep?"

"Could've been better, I mean the bed was hard as a rock," she said. "But I guess that's going to prepare me for having to sleep on the ground."

"You never been camping?" Snake said, raising his eyebrows.

Zahira voice rose in pitch, "No, not really. I mean, I did once or twice with my ex, but maybe it was for two nights at most? And the second time we stayed in a cabin, so it doesn't really count."

Rambling. She did that when she was nervous. Was she scared that he was judging her for her inexperience? He didn't pose the question to belittle her. He just wanted to know how much he was going to have to review. "Don't worry. You'll get used to it. Worst comes to worst, you can use my sleeping pad. I've gone without before, so I can rough it." Besides, it wasn't like there was going to be some root in the middle of the desert that would jab into his back.

"No, that's yours, and I bought one," she said. "I did listen to you when you were going over what I should get, even if I didn't pack them right," she laughed.

"That's my girl," he answered with a grin.

A brief moment of silence lay between them, before Zahira piped up again, "So, how was your sleep?"

"Good. As far as I know, I slept like a log." Any day he didn't wake up screaming or covered in cold sweat was a blessing.

"You look good," she said, "like you're well rested."

Snake bit his lip, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Thanks," he replied, unsure of what else to say. It wasn't like he hadn't noticed her staring at the bags around his eyes, and his nightmares weren't exactly a secret, even if she'd never witnessed him having one. It was a compliment. He needed to take it for what it was instead of over thinking everything.

His eyes darted to the sign on the road, it was in Pashto, but he could make out that it was the last something for one hundred and sixty kilometres, which translated to roughly to one hundred miles. "Zahira, it says last gas station, right?"

"Yup!" she said before laughing, "Your Pashto's alright if you could figure that out."

"I'd hope so - I've been in the country for almost five months." Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, his eyes darted to the fuel gauge. "So, princess, we have a pretty full tank, but if you need to use the can now's the time. Or it's going to be out in the bush."

Laughing, Zahira punched his shoulder lightly, "Like it's a big deal. We're going to be out in the middle of nowhere soon. But, I could always buy another pack of cigarettes. They'd have them out here, wouldn't they?"

"Every gas station in the world sells cigarettes. And if they don't –"

"I can try your cigars?" she said with a smirk.

Taking his eyes off the road for a second, Snake looked at her, shaking his head. "No. You'd choke. The ones I smoke are too strong for you."

"Bullshit, I can handle cigarettes, how much stronger can they really be?"

Sighing, Snake rolled his eyes. "They're completely different. Cigars are sensual, they're bolder. The smoke is heavier, spicier. I could go on." If he got her milder ones, not his regular Cubans then maybe she could. Besides, she wouldn't even be able to appreciate the nuances of an expensive cigar yet, especially since she was so used to cigarettes.

"I can kiss you just fine, and you sure taste like cigars," she answered with a slight edge to her voice. "I just think you don't want to share."

Snake couldn't help the smug smile on his face. "Taste like cigars, huh? Elaborate then, Purple." What sort of mood was she in? Would she blush, would she try and tease?

"Oh what, you want your delicate man ego stroked?" she laughed. "You want me to tell you how hot and spicy you are?" Snake's smirk grew into a wicked grin as she went on."Want me to tell you how you're _so_ sensual and exotic?" The tone of her voice sending shivers down his spine.

"No, I didn't need my ego stroked, but thanks princess," he answered, drumming his fingers leisurely against the steering wheel. "Always nice being told how great I am."

Zahira sighed loudly, throwing her arms up into the air. "And you tell me _I_ have a big head."

"Well you do."

Another frustrated sigh.

"Tell you what; I'll let you have a puff next time I light up. If you don't hack up a lung I'll give you one."

"Fine. You're on, Ish."

The gas station came into view, a shabby little outpost in the middle of the unforgiving desert. It made him wonder where the people who ran the place lived. Most likely they were from the town they had just left, or another smaller one somewhere further west. He wondered if the business actually brought in anything seeing how few travellers they'd seen on their journey. Taking advantage of the brief moment away from prying eyes, Snake traced his fingers along Zahira's back, grinning as she let out a surprised sigh.

"You're sure getting bold," Zahira giggled, hiding her smile between her hands.

"Well," he fumbled, as his mouth went dry, "You're... pretty." Gritting his teeth together in embarrassment, his mind raced to find a better answer. 'Pretty', really, was he in grade school? "I mean you're... you're pretty beautiful. Or I-"

Her eyes widened in disbelief for a moment, before softening, her hands dropping to her sides. "You're sweet, Ish."

"Yeah, sweet as vinegar," he laughed as he tried to regain his composure.

"If you want to go that route, then sure, you're a raspberry vinaigrette."

"Zahira, did you really just-"

"Yep."

Stepping into the little gas station corner store, Snake beheld her with a sense of bewildered wonder. Maybe she wanted to go to space so badly because she really was from Mars. Maybe this was all a ruse and she'd beam them both up to God-knows-where. How did he manage to land himself with this oddity in the first place? Glancing at her purple hair, he sighed deeply – oh yeah, she was stubborn as all hell. And maybe, just maybe part of him liked that. Someone to challenge him.

The way she moved with a sense of purpose, carrying herself with such easy confidence, made his lips perk up. He wished more than anything that he could have met her before Snake Eater. Before everything went to hell. He wished she could have met him as John. Closing his eyes, he winced slightly. He wished she could have met him as _Jack_ , the carefree, naive man with a future.

Instead, she would just know him as Ishmael, until it would inevitably all come crashing down and she'd leave. It was best to just savour the time he had now.

He watched, creating a little bit of distance between them, as Zahira made her way up to the counter. Remembering the story of her first kiss, he had to stop himself from chuckling. Now instead of candy, it was _Marlboros_. He'd make a note of it in case he ever needed to buy her a pack of smokes.

* * *

 _Dunya_ _raised the revolver, and deadly pale –_ The car jerked, causing Snake to look up and lose his focus. Sighing, Snake located the passage and buried his nose into the pages. _Dunya raised the revolver, and deadly pale, gazed at him, measuring the distance –_ Another bump in the road. This time, he glanced at Zahira, and bit his lips, trying to suppress his annoyance. Once again, he came back to the same passage, but before he could ever begin reading, there was yet another bump.

Closing his eyes, he dog-eared the page and slammed the book shut. "Can you watch the road?" he grumbled, shoving the book back into his bag.

"Trying my best, Ish. It isn't exactly the best out here," she answered with a shrug. Glancing over, she smiled. "What book, by the way?"

"Crime and Punishment. Dostoevsky," he replied. "Figured I'd use it to keep up on my Russian." Which was part of the reason he picked it up. The other part was the main character, Rodion.

"Ah nice. That's a good one," she said. "I read it in university; I needed a few extra credits so I took a Lit class."

Snake nodded. "What'd you think of it?"

"It was interesting. The way Rodion eventually tears himself apart is tragic. I mean it's completely warranted considering he killed someone, but it's still heartbreaking to watch."

"So you're Sonya?" Snake laughed. "Able to sympathize with a deranged killer."

Biting the insides of her cheek, Zahira shook her head. "Well, the whole reason he got into the mess was because he was poor. And the pawnbroker was a cow. And the motive behind the crime was to take her money and use it to do good."

"Ramblings of a desperate man," Snake answered. "It was bullshit he fed to himself so he could try and sleep at night." Laughing, he continued, "I'm not even done yet, but I can see how well that's working."

"Yes, but if he wasn't flat broke, do you think he would have done it?"

"Who knows? It'd make a hell of a boring book, though," Snake laughed.

"True. At least Sonya –" catching herself, Zahira took a deep breath. "Nope, I can't spoil it for you."

"Spoil what?"

Smiling, Zahira answered, "Depending on the type of person you are, you might like the ending. I did at least."

The corners of his mouth perked up slightly. Glancing out the window, he watched the monotonous landscape fly by. It was calming to see so much of the same. Another _thud_ and a jolt signalled yet another bump in the road. The car began to slow down, and he could hear clunking. Pressing his lips together, he turned towards Zahira, hoping the sound wasn't what he thought it was.

"Shit," Zahira breathed. "I really hope we don't-"

"We have a flat."

Slowly pulling to the side of the road, Zahira grumbled angrily about it being just their luck. With the car, stopped, Snake jumped out of the passenger side, and walked around. Back tire on the left side was blown, the likely culprit an ill placed rock. Making his way up to the driver side, he quickly scanned for any other problems before leaning up against the door. A few taps on the window got Zahira attention.

Her brows scrunched together in confusion, she rolled the window down. "The spare's in the back, I think, if you're looking for it."

"Do you know how to change a tire?"

Eyes widening, Zahira shook her head, rubbing the side of her cheek with her hand. "No, I've never needed to."

"Always had a man around?" Snake chuckled.

The way Zahira stared him down made him feel like he almost offended her. "Actually, I've just haven't ever gotten a flat tire," she answered, words clipped and short.

"Do you want to learn then?"

Her gaze softened, and she jumped out of the car. "Yes," she sighed, trying to hold back a grin. "You owe me a lesson anyway, jerkface."

"That I do, princess. Plus, it's important to know how to change one. I'm surprised no one taught you, honestly. It's a life skill." Snake answered, leading them towards the trunk of the car.

"Welcome to being a girl, Ish. I'm supposed to be _docile_ and _demure_ and-"

"Oh fuck that bullshit, Zahira. The greatest soldier I ever knew was a woman and-" he froze mid-sentence realizing how he mentioned The Boss. He could feel his chest tightening, but he forced himself to continue. He wasn't going to let on something was bothering him now – he had a job to do. "And she would kick your ass if you pulled that docile, demure shit on her."

Zahira's eyes lit up like stars. "She sounds amazing, Ish."

"Yeah," he answered quietly. "Yeah, she was." Shaking his head, he popped open the trunk and put on his biggest grin. "Anyway, first step to changing a flat tire is getting your spare tire."

* * *

Zahira struggled as she tried to pry off the lug nuts with the wrench. He would have taken her through all the steps, but _Little Miss Stubborn_ just wanted the basic run-down, and then she'd do it herself. His lesson turning into a friendly competition of how long she could go without asking for his help. She was a funny bird.

Even so, she did find the right place to put the car jack without him having to look under the car with her. Whether it was because his instructions were good, or she was just a quick study, or a combination of both, he wasn't sure. Still he had to stop himself from laughing as she began tightening the lug nuts instead of loosening them.

"How hard can this be? Why do they make these things so hard to take off?" She breathed, her brows scrunched together in frustration. Placing the wrench on the ground beside her, she threw her head back and looked up at him.

"Well, if they came off easy, they'd roll away driving," he answered shrugging. He bent down beside her, resting his hand on her shoulder, before grabbing the wrench. "It's also righty-tighty, lefty-loosey, Purple."

"Get out, I've been loosening this thing!" she glanced down at the ground before looking up at him in embarrassment. "Right?"

"Wrong," he laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "You need to go the other way."

Zahira's head dropped between her knees. "Of course." She took a deep breath before lifting her head up ever so slightly. "I could have figured that out, you know."

"I know," he answered, handing the wrench back to her, "but we're losing daylight, and I can't drive too well at night."

Taking the wrench back to the lug nuts, this time correctly going lefty-loosey, Zahira laughed, "Isn't it like three o'clock?"

"Yeah, but it's my turn to take the wheel and I want to make sure you have some time to take a nap or something, before it gets dark and you have to take over."

The last of the lug nuts dropped to the dusty ground below, and Zahira gave a small hoot of success, before trying to pry off the flat tire. "Honestly," she said between small grunts as she struggled with the tire once again, "I'm really impressed you can drive at all."

Sighing to himself, Snake leaned over, and gently shoved Zahira out of the way, before taking off the tire himself.

"Hey I can do-"

"I know you can, but we're on time constraints here."

"For someone who's supposed to be a teacher, you sure are impatient," Zahira laughed, punching him in the arm.

With a small flash of a smile, Snake shook his head. "It's harder one on one. It's why I was glad there was an even number in your class. I'm a terrible partner; I just want to do everything because it's faster."

"You're funny –' Here Zahira, let me teach you how to do something, but hurry up!'"

Reaching out to his side, he grabbed the spare tire and fitted it in place, and without a second thought began finishing up the job. "Hey, this is only our first trip; they'll be plenty of times for you to put the knowledge to use. You did most of it, we just need to get moving." Once the tire was in bolted in, he shook it just to make sure it was secure. Satisfied, he crouched down, lowered the jack, and removed it from under the car.

"Alright, let's rock and roll."

However, Zahira stood in place, awkward holding the flat tire in front of her. "Uh, Ish, what should we do with this?"

"We don't need it," Snake answered, about to get into the driver's seat. "Leave it here?"

She looked down and shook her head, causing Snake to sigh loudly. She really was a hippie.

"No, I feel bad if we do. It'll just stay here –"

"Zahira, it's the desert, some random animal will make it it's home and have a great day."

Instead of listening to him, he watched her march off to the trunk, flat tire in her arms. When he heard the _clunk_ of the trunk slamming shut, he sighed again. Holding his head in his palms. "Zahira, we don't _need_ a flat tire –"

But before he could finish, Zahira was already in the car next to him. "I'll come up with something, but we are _not_ littering."

"Have it your way, princess," he grumbled, turning the keys into the ignition.

Glancing at his watch, the time read four o'clock. A whole hour had gone by during their ordeal. They'd have three to four hours of daylight left. The heat beating down from above was stifling as ever, and he welcomed the cool that would come with nightfall. The itchiness from his eye patch was almost unbearable at times, or how sweat would pool underneath the fabric. If Zahira wasn't with him, he'd just rip off the bloody thing.

"So, driver, what do you want to listen to? I'll change the station."

"We're listening to Elvis. I've listen to countless hours of your Joan Baez, and your Bob Dylan and your Mama's and the Papa's. The tape is in the glove compartment now for your convenience, princess."

Popping open the glove compartment, and putting the tape in, Zahira scrunched her nose. "I always liked Johnny Cash more."

"I like the man in black too, but Elvis is king," he chuckled, as the first opening chords of _Blue Suede Shoes_ played over the radio. Totally in his element, he hummed along, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. The only thing that would have made it even better was a cigar. However, that would be a little too self-indulgent, and trying to concentrate on the road, he wouldn't be able to enjoy the flavour anyway.

Making a turn, he caught Zahira smiling at him. The rare glances he got to steal of her while driving were always small blessings to break up the monotony of the road. His shoulders relaxed, and he took a deep breath. Right now, just for this moment, everything was okay.

Maybe he wouldn't ever truly be happy again, but with her, for however long it was going to last, maybe he could be content.

As the song ended and bled into the next, he thought about what _she_ would have thought of Zahira. Despite how different they were, he thought that The Boss would appreciate how she was unapologetically herself. They had that in common. He knew that Zahira, if she had gotten the chance to meet her, would have worshipped the ground she walked on. It was hard not to worship The Boss, or idolize her. She was everything a person hoped to be. What he had hoped to be.

"I don't think I've seen you this relaxed before," Zahira laughed.

"Well, I got good music, the scenery is wide and open," he said with a grin, "I got a good looking girl next to me."

"Aren't you turning into a charmer?"

"Practice makes perfect, I guess."

Humming along with the music made him feel close to his old self again. He hadn't actually listened to The King in a while. It hadn't felt right, listening to upbeat music after what had happened. It brought back memories of playing poker with Python, of campfires in Korea. Whistling the melodies on his way home from the shooting range.

"You know, for someone who calls herself a little delinquent greaser girl, I'm surprised you're not crazy for Elvis."

A loud sigh escaped her lips, "It's not that I don't like Elvis, it's just that his songs are a little too saccharine for me."

"This is coming from the girl who likes _I Got You Babe_ ," he answered, raising his eyebrow.

"Only because it's cheesy and cute and drives you crazy!"

"Alright, Purple. I just think your claim to delinquency isn't as legitimate as you claim it to be." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he laughed.

* * *

What Snake loved more than anything about being out in the wilderness, were the lucky moments you got to see a sky full of stars on a clear night. Any look outside the window told him it was going to be one of those nights that he loved. There wasn't a cloud in the sky as the sun began to set below the horizon. The dusty desert glowing in pink and orange hues.

"Do you think we'll make find make it to town tonight?" Zahira said, crinkling the map that lay between her hands.

"How many kilometers is the next dot?"

"Five hundred? I think?"

He paused for a moment to do the mental calculation in his head. "About three hundred miles then, so it's doable. When we get there depends on how fast you want to go."

"Alright, the towns are getting smaller so we should probably get there as fast as we can. I doubt some little family running a hostel is going to want to be woken up at midnight," Zahira answered.

There was a long pause between them, the music filling the space. Right away, he noticed a difference in the energy that was radiating off Zahira, and he could hear her fidgeting with the map. She took a deep breath, and then spoke. "Hey, um Ish, I was wondering..."

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to spend the night with me, tonight?"

How small and nervous her voice was took him by surprise. For someone who was so brash, and teasing. He wasn't quite sure what it meant, and once again, he could feel his cheeks going warm and the back of his neck burning up. There was something in his throat all of the sudden.

"What do you mean by that?" his voice was thick.

She inhaled sharply. "Nothing! I mean not what you're thinking." Her breath quickened as she raced to make herself clear. "I mean, I just wanted to spend more time with you is all."

"Zahira, you're stuck with me in the car close to eighteen hours a day, do you really need those extra six hours?"

"It's not that," she sighed. "I mean, yes we're in a car together for a long time, but I wanted to-"

With his heart racing, Snake willed himself to focus on the road, and not entertain the thought of what Zahira was offering. He should have been leaping at the chance, but he couldn't.

"If you want sex, I think it's a little too early in the grand scheme of-"

"No," she sighed, "you're not listening. I said it wasn't what you were thinking. I just want to be close to you, and," her voice trailed off for a moment. "I want to cuddle. There I said it, I'm clingy, and dumb, and I need those stupid girly things, and I-"

The music played on, and Snake tried to sort through the surge of whatever that was. She wanted to be close to him. His gaze softened; she really was a sweetheart. But sharing a room was such a big leap. He wished they were back in Kandahar, so he could spend the time close to her that they both needed, but sleep in his own bed. If things weren't so rigid, he could do the same and retire to his room. But culturally, there was no reason a man would visit a lady in the night. It would be the same if they were somewhere in rural Europe. If he chose to spend the night alone, they would both go to sleep and see each other in the morning for a long day of driving.

And he did want to hold her in his arms and make her happy. He just didn't want to fall asleep and potentially harm her. He sighed to himself, he could always sleep on the floor and pray he didn't wake up screaming. Or he could stay awake all night.

"To be honest, I want to be close to you too," he said stiffly.

"Alright," she said quietly, "so tonight you'll be my husband, okay?"

The word still sent shivers down his spine. "Yeah, okay."

* * *

Arriving in a town far smaller than the last, Zahira and Snake trudged their tired bodies through the dusty streets. This time the finding accommodations wasn't so easy, and they found themselves wandering around, asking the locals where they could spend the night. When they did, it was an elderly couple who rented out the top floor of their home to travelers on their journey. Business was slow, but it was something they did out of the kindness of their hearts. Even though they regarded he and Zahira with a guarded curiosity, they were still warm and welcoming – even offering to make breakfast in the morning for a minimal added cost. He felt bad for lying to them. The way they lit up, when Zahira told them something that sounded like they were newlyweds, made his stomach roll.

However, when the door to their room finally shut, and their bags were tossed into the corner, Snake finally felt at peace.

"It looks like this room is a little more homey than the last," Zahira said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah," he answered, noting the little desk that sat in the corner, and the window above it. "The bed looks cozier too. You can tell those blankets are handmade."

Their eyes met for a moment, before Snake looked away. It was really hard to believe that they'd gotten away with this.

"Zahira, um," his voice was soft, "do you mind if I undress? It's just, I've been in these clothes all day..."

His chest tightened as he waited for her answer, holding his breath.

"Oh, of course, I'll turn around," she replied, staring at the floor, her thick hair falling in front of her face. Her fingers clutching the blankets.

"You don't have to," he said, taking a seat and the desk in the corner, before leaning over to unlace his boots. "I'm just getting out of this shirt and pants."

Zahira swung her legs back and forth, and looked up at him, even in the dim light of the room, he could see the twinge of pink colouring her cheeks. "No pajamas?"

Snake shook his head, and could feel his palms getting clammy. "Haven't really had a pair since I was nineteen, twenty? They just take up extra space in a backpack." He chose to leave out the part about how they were too restricting.

"But they're so cozy. And you're not in the Army anymore, so do you really need to worry about backpack space?" She was giggling a little now, as she kicked off her own shoes.

"Old habits die hard, princess."

"Well, I'm going to buy you some. A nice red plaid, or maybe a navy blue?" Looking away for a moment, she sighed and shook her head. "You'd look cute."

Grimacing at the thought of being covered head to toe in red plaid, he tried not to let on just how much he hated the idea. "Uh-huh. Sounds great," he mumbled, pulling his t-shirt over his head.

Hearing her gasp, and catching a glimpse of her turning away made the butterflies in his stomach turn over. Weren't they a couple of stupid kids? And even if she did turn away, he could still see her trying to steal a glance. It was still surreal, thinking someone would be attracted to him. He quickly rolled his clothes in standard military style, enjoying the cool air against his bare shoulders. Everything about this was so different from EVA.

She turned around to face him again, biting her bottom lip nervously. "God, you're –" she breathed.

Raising an eyebrow, Snake willed himself to ignore the heat he was feeling at the back of his neck in his chest. "I'm what?"

She paused for a moment. "Really in shape."

"Well, yeah. I mean, it's not like the Army was a brisk walk in the park. My body is my weapon," he answered with a shrug. "I'm not even where I should be, a year off's made me gain some weight. But that's to be expected when you're not burning four thousand calories a day out in the bush."

"Aren't you modest?" Zahira laughed.

"Oh come on, you know I didn't mean it like that, Zahira," he sighed, making his way toward the bed. "Fighting's the only thing I'm good at. I've worked hard to get to where I am, so there's some confidence there, I guess."

As he sat down on the bed, he wrapped his arm around her waist, and she melted into his touch. The way she held her breath for a second, and how she let her defenses down humbled him. "I wouldn't say it's the only thing you're good at," she answered, resting her head against his shoulder. "You're a good teacher, even if you can be impatient."

"No, I'm not. I'm mediocre at best."

"Okay, Grumpy, then you're really good at foreign languages. And you can't contest me on that one."

"Whatever you say, princess. But I'll always be a soldier, first and foremost."

Feeling the warmth of her lips against the side of his neck, Snake closed his eyes and held back a sigh. "No, you're a man, first and foremost," she breathed.

He shook his head, and gently kissed her temple, inhaling the sweet smell of her shampoo. "Uh-huh, last time I checked, I had the right parts there."

"God, you're such a dork!" she giggled, trying to push him away.

The lightness of her laugh was beautiful, and he couldn't stop himself from grinning. All of this was so different. He didn't deserve these moments. Not after what he'd done. But he couldn't help but enjoy them, he couldn't help but want more.

"Yeah, I know," he chuckled, "but princess, you should get comfortable, and change. Sleep's important."

"It's still early, I don't want to go to bed. I want to talk to you, I want to be with you," she whined, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Eighteen hours, really isn't good enough, is it," he laughed.

"Oh shut up. You close your eyes and I'll get changed."

"See, all I have to do is make you a little angry to get what I need you to do."

"Ish, you're a jerk," she sighed, shaking her head. Her hands covered her lips, but he could still make out the faint outlines of a smile.

Covering his eyes with his hands, he scooted further back on the bed. "I'm not looking, so do your thing."

"You _sure_ , you're not looking?"

"Zahira, I'm not going to look," he laughed.

"You're a gentleman, Ish."

He could hear the soft ruffling of clothes hitting the floor, and the metallic _zing_ of a zipper opening as she rummaged through her bag. More ruffling as she probably threw on her pajamas, and then the soft shuffling of feet as she made her way over.

Feeling the bed decompress a little beneath him, Snake's lips curled into a small smile. "You can open your eyes now," she giggled.

He let his hands fall from his eyes and they instinctually moved to hold hers. In her cozy get-up of light pink flannels, she looked warm and soft, and small. "Hey, you're cute." He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers.

Nuzzling his nose, Zahira giggled, "I like the confidence, Ish." Her right hand freed itself from his, and reached up to massage the back of his neck, running her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes, sighing softly at her touch.

"Confidence?" he laughed, "What confidence?" He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

"This," she replied, kissing him gently. "Pulling me close, calling me cute, taking charge." She kissed him again, quicker this time as she tried to hold back her laughter.

Snake opened his eyes and blushed, suddenly hyper-aware of everything. The sound of his breathing, his heart beating, her hands running through his hair. The honest murky green of her eyes looking up at him from under long lashes and the bow of her lips curled into a smile. And as his eyes travelled down, he could see a small glimpse of the curve of her breasts from under her nightshirt. He could see the relation of their bodies to each other, and how she was straddled on top of him.

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes again. Less sensory overload. "Didn't expect little Ms. Stubborn to want someone else to take charge."

"It's not so much that," she laughed, her hands dropping to his shoulders. "Normally you're always so gentle with me," she paused for a moment, shaking her head, "no, that's not the right word... I guess, normally you almost handle me with care? Like I'm a box of wine glasses or something and you're afraid to break me."

Opening his eyes again, he could feel his chest getting tight as the butterflies came back.

"Right now you didn't do that, and it was nice," she said with a smile. "Plus, you managed to compliment me without over thinking it – adorable as it is when you do."

"I think you need to look up what adorable actually means, princess," he laughed, looking away.

"I know what it means, you goof," she answered. "And you're adorable even if you look like a grizzly bear," she giggled, stroking his beard.

He held her hand against his cheek, closing his eyes, savouring the feeling of her soft skin. "You're something," he mumbled to himself.

When he let go, she leaned back slightly, her eyes moving down his chest, following the large 'S'-shaped scar that made its way to his stomach. She looked back up at him, touching his face tentatively just below his eye patch. "Ishmael," she breathed softly, "I've always wanted to ask, but I never really knew how but –"

"You want to know about what happened to my eye," he answered, "about my scars?"

"How did you-" her eyebrows were raised, mouth open in surprise.

"You called me Ishmael. When do you ever really call me that, Zahira?" he replied with a soft smile.

His chest tightened, it wasn't a topic that he really wanted to end his night on. "That's true," she answered, smiling shyly. "If you don't want to talk about it I understand though. I know it probably brings up bad memories-"

"It's fine," he sighed, gently grabbing her wrist, moving her hand from his face. "It was bound to come up sooner or later."

"I just remembered how you mentioned to the class not to talk about your eye," she laughed nervously.

"Well, after a while of some young punk asking you if it's real or if you're just wearing one to intimidate them, it gets annoying," he said shrugging.

"That's fair," she sighed.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out and took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. Looking away, he closed his eyes. "It happened when I was captured, before I could escape that Russian base I told you about a while ago."

"Ish, I-"

"Shh." He kissed her quickly, before pulling away again. "If you want to know then let me talk."

She looked up at him and nodded silently.

"When I was captured, there's always the standard interrogation process. I'd been trained to deal with those situations, so don't worry about how I managed, alright." He bit the inside of his cheek and sighed. He wouldn't go into the gory details with her. She didn't need to know about the electro-shock torture. A shiver ran through him thinking about it."Anyway, it was starting to get heated," he sighed, trying to piece together something that wouldn't let on how brutal it was, "as they were trying to extract information out of me, the girl who was going undercover to help my mission freaked out and she came under suspicion."

Zahira opened her mouth to say something, but promptly closed it. He could tell from the way her eyebrows were scrunched together how frustrated she was being unable to ask questions.

"Anyway, Major Ocelot has a thing for Russian Roulette and starts firing his revolver at her. I'm hanging with my arms tied together from the ceiling, and I'm trying to get in between this mess. I manage to swing my body over enough to knock him out of the way, but the way he fell the gun pointed at me, his finger slipped and pulled the trigger. I'm lucky that the angle was off and it was just a graze and muzzle burn."

"That's awful, I can't imagine how-"

"Shh," he said, kissing her again. "It's fine. I'm alive, I'm here."

She pressed herself against him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. "I'm really glad, Ish," she whispered intently. "I'm really glad." She buried her head into the crook of his neck, and he held her there.

"Hey, princess. We should probably sleep, hmm?" he breathed, stroking her hair. "Long day tomorrow."

"No," she pleaded, "just a little bit longer?"

"You're going to be tired." Kissing the top of her head, he pulled away and reached for the edge of the blanket.

Just as he was about to slip under the covers, he felt Zahira's fingers trace along his back. "Aren't you going to take it off?"

"Hmm?"

"Your eye patch. Won't it be uncomfortable?"

Snake sighed and dug his fingers into the sheets. She was right, especially after sweating in it all day. "No, it's fine. Let's sleep."

"Ish, if you're worried about what's under there grossing me out, when you were in the hospital and you were sleeping-" She looked down for a moment before continuing, "I've seen the scarring. You know, since sometimes you'd sleep with it off."

He froze for a moment before exhaling. "And you still decided to chase after me, even though I'm-"

"Stop it," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "I love you."

"Well, since you've already seen most of it," he sighed, before slipping off his eye patch. "It's not pretty, Zahira." He closed his eyes, before pushing her away.

"Ishmael."

"Why do you need to see so badly? You got your story," he answered, turning to look at her, covering his right eye with his hand.

Sighing, she cupped the side of his face. "It's not about me seeing it or not. I want you for you. I don't want you to have to hide yourself from me."

The guilt welled up inside him and he wanted to run. How could he string this girl along like this? But he didn't stop her as she slowly pushed away his hand covering that dead, unseeing eye, and how she looked at him unafraid. He didn't stop her when she pressed her lips against his, taking his breath away.

"I love you," she whispered into his ear before lying down next to him, "I love you."

Snake closed his eyes and sighed, "Goodnight, princess."

It was in that moment, as his head hit the pillow, that he knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep at all.


	35. Chapter 35

_A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the delay and the shorter chapter. Life's been really interesting and hectic lately and I haven't really had time or the head space to write. I didn't want to delay the chapter for any longer though and after a few rewrites I felt like it needed to just be sent off into the world._

 _Once again, thank you to everyone who's read this fanfic and has stuck with it so far. I honestly can't thank you guys enough ;_;_

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE**

As soon as he was sure Zahira was asleep, Snake carefully began wriggling out of her embrace. Moving his body slowly, he tried to be mindful of her head gently resting on his chest. His eyes were focused on her sleeping face and he held his breath, praying that she wouldn't open her eyes. He could feel his chest tighten as he watched her brows scrunch together, her head rolled off of his chest onto the empty patch of the mattress that now replaced it. Was she going to wake up? He froze in place, biting his lower lip. After what felt like a minute, he sighed quietly in relief. He was still in the clear. Taking his moment to escape, Snake climbed out of bed and silently made his way towards the small desk in the corner.

Each step he took was slow and deliberate. Heel, then toe, slightly crouched to help his weight more evenly. Wooden floors were some of the worst offenders for creaking, especially old wooden floors, like the one he was standing on now. He'd never forget how one simple slip up almost cost he and Python a whole mission, back in the day. Everything going according to plan, all they had to do was take out some crooked official hiding out in his vacation home in Valencia and steal some documentation. Easy, especially with two men on the job. Except Python had to get a little trigger happy, and stopped watching where he was stepping and _how_ he was stepping. It was in that moment he realized that for infiltration missions, he vastly preferred working alone. But regardless of past mistakes, he managed to get to the other side of the room without disturbing sleeping beauty from her slumber.

He needed the time alone, his head swimming with memories and accusations.

 _I love you_.

How did those three simple words turn into a machine gun assault on his conscience?

Sitting in the chair as carefully and quietly as he could, he ran his hand through his hair, nearly clawing at his scalp.

Words like that weren't supposed to tear you apart, but here he was because _God_ he didn't know anymore. He didn't know what the hell he was doing with his life. As the tightness in his chest grew worse, he rested his forehead on the flat of the desk. Cool and smooth against his skin.

He needed to look at himself and honestly ask: what was he doing here? Really? In all seriousness, what was he doing holed up in Afghanistan? He failed at the civilian job he'd set out to do, he was using his former student and now employer as a pseudo emotional crutch because he was so god damn vulnerable and stupid. So why didn't he go back to America and put his hands up and hang his head in shame. Finally admit that he was nothing but a failure. Taking a deep breath, he loosened his grip on his hair. The Boss would be looking at him right now in disgust.

She didn't take him in from nothing to become… well, _this_. Relying on the distraction Zahira provided him with, drinking himself into a stupor just so he could try to sleep without reliving everything about his last mission. He bit down on his bottom lip and tried to focus on breathing as his chest tightened and his mouth went dry. There were so many questions he didn't have the answers to.

Lifting his head up from the desk, Snake looked out the window, desperately hoping for a sign. Anything to give him a clear path for the road that lay ahead of him.

"Boss," he breathed quietly, "what the hell would you do?"

More than anything right now he wanted a drink to numb everything. The guilt, the confusion and uncertainty. Turning around in the chair, he glanced at the dark shadow that was his backpack. There was a flask he'd packed in there for a night where he really couldn't keep his shit together. It wouldn't be enough to get him drunk but maybe it'd be enough to take the edge off so he could breathe again.

With another sigh, Snake shook his head. If he needed to sink that low only a few days into their excursion into the wilderness, then he'd really be fucked. Maybe Dr. Saab was right about taking those pills. Maybe he was psychotic after all.

He shifted his gaze to Zahira's sleeping form, huddled and soft beneath the blankets. Touching his right eye, gingerly tracing his fingers over the scars, he held his breath, thinking again on her words.

 _"I love you."_

But did he love her?

Honestly, he couldn't say.

He thought he did when his good mood got the better of him. When they were sharing stories in the car and driving each other crazy with clashing musical tastes. Or when she caught him off guard with moments of tenderness. He enjoyed holding her close and the rush physical contact gave him. But could he really be content with just that? As great of a girl as Zahira was, nothing could compare to the thrill of using his body like a well-oiled machine, poised and ready for a fire-fight. And deep down, he longed for the days where he was covered in blood, sweat and dirt.

Given the chance, he would leap at the opportunity to return to whatever hell-hole the military wanted to send him off to. Send him back to Vietnam, send him into the jungles of South America, just somewhere he could feel _alive_ again for once. Somewhere he could lose himself and get high off the adrenaline and bloodlust. But he couldn't because it meant going back to Zero, and being used in his game of cat and mouse. _The Patriots_ were a joke in his eyes. It was almost an insult to The Boss' memory – creating a shadowy organization to pull the strings behind the scenes. Her life was ruined and dictated to her by _The Philosophers_ so why would she want to employ similar methods at uniting East and West?

And really, what did that even mean? Uniting East and West?

There was so much he didn't know about her even after all those years. All he knew is that he pledged his loyalty to her, and her alone, at the foot of her grave in Arlington. Which left him the question he'd been avoiding since her death: wasn't it his responsibility as a 'son' to continue what she fought and died for? Didn't he owe her at least that after taking her life? Create a world where someone with her ideals wouldn't be cast aside and left to rot?

He doubted Zero could accomplish that. While not directly responsible for orchestrating the mission, he still knew. He still withheld information from him. He'd been out of the confines of battle for too long to understand true loyalty anymore anyway.

Still, it didn't change the fact that Zero was trying to accomplish something and he was out hiding in Afghanistan because he had no clue how to live up to her ideals.

Some protégé he was.

Snake ran his hands through his hair again, and sighed. He needed to cut it, it was getting too long. She would be chastising him if she were here now.

Honestly, he didn't know if his train of thought was in line with hers, but he truly believed that if soldiers were able to fight for themselves and choose the causes they fought for maybe the Cold War would solve itself. After all, if the top brass actually listened to her maybe they wouldn't even be here. She'd still be alive. But no one bothered to listen to her, and she ate her ideals because she was loyal to her country and trusted that they knew better than her.

And she died for their mistakes.

He glanced at Zahira's sleeping form again, shaking his head.

And where did he expect to fit her into the complicated mess that was his life? If he went back to his old profession, he'd be gone months at a time – would she even accept that? And that was just looking at the trivial. It wasn't even scratching the surface on how she could come under very real danger because of him. If she ended up knowing too much they could get rid of her. If an enemy really wanted to get to him they could use her to exploit a weakness.

And hell, did he really want to have the conversation of, ' _Hey honey, how was your day at work today?" – "Aw, jeez hun, it was swell. Killed twelve people and probably paralyzed a guy from the waist down!"_

The rustling of blankets drew him out of his thoughts. His shoulders tensed and he held his breath.

"Ishmael?"

He grit his teeth and closed his eyes. Of course.

The soft shuffling of her feet on the hardwood floor made his heart pound faster in his chest. He didn't want her to see him like this. Sure he wasn't a wreck like the last time, but he still didn't want her to see this side of him all the same.

"What are you doing up?" she whispered, tracing her fingers along his back.

He flinched at her touch, as her cool fingers glided over the scars that decorated him. "I could ask you the same, princess," he sighed, leaning his head back so he could look up at her.

Even though the room was dark, the moon filtering in through the window lit up her face, creating soft shadows with her hair, and despite his inner turmoil, he couldn't help his lips upturning into a small, timid smile.

"Well, I needed to pee," she giggled softly placing a kiss on the side of his head. "You look like you've been up for a few hours though."

Trying to keep his cool, Snake forced a grin on his face, maybe showing too much teeth to really be convincing. "Yeah, enjoying the full moon I guess. And the stars. Always liked stars."

"Really now," the tone of Zahira's voice was calm, but he could hear the skepticism colouring her words. "I guess it is a nice night though."

"Yeah."

Silence hung between them again, and he prayed she'd just leave already. He knew she meant well, but he didn't need this now. It was bad enough he had to talk about his feelings with Dr. Saab.

"If I can't fall asleep when I come back? Can I look at the stars with you? Maybe you can show me some constellations?"

Closing his eyes, Snake sighed inwardly, resigning himself to the fact that now she was worried, and was doing that annoying checking-in thing that'd become a habit in their short time together. Still, she wasn't prying, which is better than what Dr. Saab would be doing. "Sure, if you're not tired."

With another quick kiss on the top of his head, Zahira left his side without a word.

As soon as he heard the door click shut, Snake shook his head and sighed again. A drink would have been really nice. Just something to make the radio chatter in his brain turn off. But that would make her worry even more, and he wasn't dumb enough to think he could get away with it now. She'd smell the alcohol on his breath if he even dared have a sip.

At this point though, did he really care? Who was she to him anyway?

A grimace crossed his lips and he slunk further into the old wooden chair – who was he trying to fool? He couldn't do that to her.

When she returned, he was more or less in the same spot as usual. Instead of facing the window, he was turned sideways towards the bed. Still lost in thought, still fighting the growing desire to dive into his backpack and dig out the steel flask that held his liquid salvation.

"Zahira," he said as he watched her awkwardly kneel down beside him, "don't do that, I can move over a little, or you can sit on my lap."

She closed her eyes and sighed, picking herself off the floor. "I'm sorry," she answered, pressing her fingers to her lips, "I didn't know if you were okay with being touched or not."

The corners of his mouth upturned, and he reached out to her, grabbing her by the wrists. "Come here." His mind was still going a mile a minute, but she was trying. "How are you supposed to see any stars from down there anyway, Purple?"

"I… I don't know," she laughed as he pulled her closer. "Being silly, I guess."

"Alright, my silly girl," he answered, kissing her gently on the forehead.

The feeling of her weight on him was surreal. He didn't understand how she could be so comfortable with him. Put her trust in him.

"So," he began, slightly shifting himself into a more comfortable position, "you can't really see much from the window, but do you see that cluster of really bright stars?"

"Ish, they're all bright."

Rolling his eyes, he couldn't help smiling. "Wow, a real comedy show we have here."

"Oh hush, I study plants not stars."

He pointed to left, trying to make it obvious which cluster he was looking at. "The big red one, do you see it?"

He felt Zahira lean forward a little, as if getting physically closer to the stars would make it easier to see. "I think so. There's like two smaller stars above and below it?"

"That's the one, Antares," he said. "You can follow it up and you'll see the head of the constellation Scorpius."

"Huh, that's neat."

Once again, silence fell between the two of them, and he could feel his chest growing tight again. What the hell was he supposed to talk about now?

"Ish," she said quietly, "are you sure everything is okay?"

Taking a deep breath, Snake shook his head. He knew that was bound to come up. "Yeah. I just have a lot on my mind."

He could feel her go rigid. "Do you want to talk-"

"No."

It was then she got up and turned to face him, concern knitting her brows together and pressing her lips into a thin line. "I just thought I could help if we talked about it. "

"Zahira," he answered, biting his bottom lip, "you can't on this one. It's not something you'd understand."

His stomach dropped as he watched her mouth curl into a frown. The game of twenty questions was about to begin. Lucky him.

"Come on, maybe I can? How can you know if-"

"Zahira," he breathed. "Drop it."

But one look at her told him that she was not going to drop it. Her shoulders were tense and she was staring at him intently, hands clutching the sides of her pajamas. "Ishmael, please can you just-"

"Zahira," he repeated, his voice firm and low, "drop it."

He could feel the anxiety bubbling into rage and he didn't want to blow up on her, but her insistence was making it difficult.

"Fine," she sighed, throwing her arms up in defeat. "I just wish you'd have some-"

Reaching out, he took her hand in his. "I do have faith in you, alright." Running his thumb over her smooth skin, he glanced up at her, "There are some things in my life that I don't want you to understand." He took a deep breath and stared her down. It was time to be real. "Zahira, I've bashed people's skulls to a bloody pulp with the butt of my rifle because the platoon I was in got overrun in Korea and we were out of bullets and low on supplies. And I want to tell you I hated it, but I didn't." Closing his eyes, he paused for a moment. "The things that haunt me, that make me doubt myself, are worse than that. I don't want you to-"

"Ish, I…" her mouth hung ajar as she tried to come to comprehend his words. Her eyes were wide with disbelief and despite him knowing it was inevitable, it was that look he was terrified of. Mouth set into a frown he waited for her to turn him away in disgust.

"I don't know what to say," she began, closing her eyes.

"Well, getting involved with a soldier, it should have been obvious I've killed people," he said dryly, letting her hand fall from his grasp.

"I know I just, I didn't expect you to tell me you-"

"What? That I enjoyed it to some extent?" he sighed. "Zahira, it's probably what made me so good at my job."

Well, the short-lived relationship was nice while it lasted.

Snake observed her stand stock still and mentally braced himself for what was going to be an awkward drive when they finally left. He hoped the radio would still get reception as they drove further out or tomorrow would bring a painful silence.

What she did next threw him off guard as she stepped towards him, cupping his face with her hands. "Let's just go lie in bed. Come on, please."

Wordlessly, Snake followed her to the small bed and once again slipped under the covers. Staring blankly at the ceiling, he grit his teeth together. At least he didn't let her in completely. At least he didn't-

Her body pressed against his and he felt something in the back of his throat. Why?

"Ish," she breathed, "I love you." Wrapping her arms around his, she continued, "But if you don't feel comfortable talking, maybe you should do something else."

"Like what," he laughed bitterly, "drink?"

Glancing to the side, he saw her bite her lips in frustration. "Have you tried writing?"

"Writing?"

"Like a journal," she answered. "I used to keep one when I was in college. It helped me when I was stressed out or confused or angry." Pausing for a moment, she closed her eyes. "I mean when I was tearing myself apart over Robert if I didn't have that place to just get it all out I think I'd of gone crazy."

"Robert?"

"My ex."

"Right."

It was the first time she'd mentioned his name. How she said it was what got to him, though, There wasn't anger like he was expecting.

"He was my first really serious fling I guess," she laughed quietly, shaking her head. "And he was wonderful, I mean he was at the top of his class in engineering. My parents loved him, even my mother," she closed her eyes and tightened her grip on his arm. "God, my mother was so happy because her uncontrollable daughter was finally settling down with a good boy from a good family. On paper he was perfect."

Letting go of his arm, she sighed, "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm going on about this."

Tentatively, Snake inched closer to her, pressing a small kiss on her temple. "I'm listening."

Zahira glanced at him, eyes widening. "Are you sure? I really shouldn't-"

"It makes us square," he answered with a small shrug. His hand wandered towards hers, and he gave it a squeeze, trying to reassure her. "What happened between you and Mr. Perfect?"

She giggled, the stupid moniker he came up with winning her over, before going quiet again, a far-away look in her eyes. "Mr. Perfect," she repeated, "well, we met through a mutual friend, and we just hit it off. He was someone I could really talk to about my passions. I mean, even though he was in engineering, he actually seemed to be interested in botany. Or at least I thought he was… and he was funny, and that stereotypical boy-next-door handsome."

Even though he didn't know the other man, and he knew that he and Zahira weren't a thing anymore, he still couldn't help but feel a little twinge of jealousy. It was juvenile but, there it was.

"I mean we would stay up all night talking in the park, to the point where we'd both have to sneak back in to our dorms. And we'd talk about everything: movies, politics, books, family, the professors we couldn't stand." There was a waver in her voice that caught him off guard. She had sounded so sure of herself when she'd first mentioned refusing to settle down on their first pseudo date, and how she left when someone tried to tie her down. "And he would stick by me if I got into stupid intellectual bullshit arguments with his friends," she sighed before bitterness coloured her laugh, "because college is full of stupid people trying to make themselves sound smart."

"So what happened?"

"We changed, I guess," she said. "After almost four years together, he decided I was too outspoken and too ambitious to be a good homemaker. Being inspired and passionate was cute when we were just fooling around and it was okay for his parents to hate me. But, in the end, he didn't need someone who wanted to travel the world, he didn't need someone to spend hours a day in a lab." She bit her lips and exhaled slowly. "But he needed someone to take care of him after he came home from work. Someone to stay home and take care of the kids he wanted. He needed me to stop being outspoken, because it wasn't fitting for a wife. And I tried so hard to change. I tried so hard to stop talking, stop dreaming… get excited about having kids, having that fairy-tale house because with his salary we'd have that and then some."

The pain in her voice made his blood boil. That wasn't fair. He pulled her against his chest, closing his eyes as he heard her let out a small gasp of surprise. "Well, fuck that asshole."

Her laughter brought a smile to his face. That's what he wanted to hear. He wanted her happiness.

"Oh God, Ish," she said, regaining her composure. "You're great. I agree, fuck that asshole."

He placed a small kiss on her forehead, and let his fingers run through her hair. "Bed time, princess?"

"Uh-huh, I think that applies more to you though, Grumpy. Try to get a few hours in, okay?" she giggled, nuzzling his nose.

"Hey, I had a lot on my mind and I-"

"I'm teasing you, hun. Laugh with me alright?" she said, flashing him her brightest grin.

"Alright," he grumbled, trying to stop his lips from perking up.


End file.
